Violent Deception
by Fairy.Kai
Summary: Watch me fall. Watch me crumble. Watch me fade away. Violently broken... Sequel in progress...
1. Prologue

**Violent Deception by **

**AN: A new one everybody! Dedicated to _hannahmeh/always_jamesandlily _! Everyone check her stories (after reading this, of course)**

**xox xox**

**Prologue**

The name's Violent Faithe. Girl? Witch? Or the Death Eater's greatest weapon?

My first year at Hogwarts passed normally. I was the quiet girl in our giggly Gryffindor dormitory. I used to watch as the nerd-extraordinaire - Hermione Granger - would sneak off to run amok with the red-haired wonder - Ron Weasley, and The Boy Who Does Everything Right And Needs His Name Spelt In Capital Letters - Harry Potter. In case anyone is confused, I am probably the only Gryffindor you will ever meet who hates Harry Potter with a passion. Suck it up, people.

I sat through Second Year watching sadly as poor Ginny Weasley poured her soul out into that vile diary. I would wait in the common room until she'd come in crying, clutching that stupid book to her chest, and comfort the poor first-year until she could stand up again. What? Any relation of Ron Weasley needs a hug. I hear Potter spends holidays with them.

Okay, I have a so far unexplained vendetta against the skinny Potter kid.

It started in our third year. The year Sirius Black, my father, escaped from Azkaban. I waited for him to come and find me. My mother always said he would, one day. I spent every night outside, waiting for him to try and get inside the castle. Of course, I had heard the rumours that he had been saying 'he's as Hogwarts, he's at Hogwarts'. But I thought they were just rumours. I thought Black was finally coming to find me - his long lost daughter. But I was wrong. I stood beside that stupid lake every night for a year (how horribly Notebook-ish of me?). I would have done better to throw myself in. And in the end, it was Potter he wanted. His oh-so-special _godson_. Did the man even know he had a daughter? Did he care?

And so the Potter feud started. And everyone on Potter's side was just as bad in my deranged grey eyes. Of course, that set me against the majority of the wizarding world. Great.

Fourth Year was a favourite of mine. I got to watch as Potter was bashed around by a giant fire-breathing dragon, almost drown in the very Lake I had knelt beside and screamed at for my father, and stumble anxiously through what was said to be the most mind-throwing task of all - The Maze. Brilliant, all of it. And then the whole year was _ruined_ when the Dark Lord just had to return. Of course, it was sad about the Diggory kid. And my arm, with its ugly tattoo, used to itch every night that I ignored its call. But then, after I thought about it, I figured that the mental stress Potter was under now, due to the Rise of Voldemort, was a good thing.

Fifth Year was another normal one. I laughed at the pathetic-ness of Dumbledore's Army - the vigilante group run by Potter. And then Harry Potter had to run to save Black in the Department of Mysteries. And effectively have my father murdered by my psycho 'aunt' Bellatrix. So, everyone thought I was bitter and twisted _before_ my father's death? Well, after this new shocking emotional blow, I was mentally unstable. Of course, _someone_ had to notice my bizarre mood swings and generally volatile disposition. And it just had to be the living saint - no, not Potter. Close, though - Albus Dumbledore. Go ahead, Avada me now.

Through my educational years, I had called myself Violent Faithe, using my mother's maiden name. So Dumbledore had been pretty surprised to find me bawling my eyes out over the death of the murderer, Sirius Black. The wrinkly old guy called me up to his office for a cup of tea. I didn't tell him a single thing.

Not that I had grown up in the House of Lestrange - Bellatrix being my mother's bestest, bestest buddy.

Not how when I was three, my mother officially handed me over to The Dark Lord. I was declared his rightful property. Creepy, much? Yeah, the sad thing was that the sacrificial child act didn't make her his number one agent. I know! The woman gave him her firstborn kid! What more could he want? Bottom line is: Voldemort makes a shitty Rumplestiltskin baby snatcher.

I didn't tell him how I had the Dark Mark branded into the skin of my left forearm at the age of seven.

I didn't tell him about the shock I caused when I got landed in Gryffindor (yeah, that _was_ a shock!).

No, I didn't tell Albus Dumbledore much. But I always wonder just how much he's guessed about me.

And this is my Sixth Year at Hogwarts. Exciting. A whole year to hate Potter for what he'd done to me. And he still doesn't know who I am. Excellent. I like my prey unsuspecting.

So here I am, Violent Faithe-Black, hating Potter and fearing an almost-certain war with my past. Oh, and Voldemort. He was coming for the after-party.

~xox~


	2. Chapter 1

**Violent Deception**

**Chapter One**

I suppose Sixth Year started to go downhill from the first class - Charms. How the bloody hell Flitwick had thought that I, Violent Faithe - a person so magically uncoordinated I could _almost_ be considered a Squib, could keep up in Advanced Charms. I _suck_ at Charms, and every other subject... besides Transfiguration. I had a feeling that a serious butt-kicking was in order. Perhaps I'll have a little chat with Professor McGonagall. She just _loved_ me. Cough. Sarcasm. Cough.

The tiny (and I'm not exaggerating when I say tiny) little Professor Flitwick left me no choice but to consider him as a blind old wizard with absolutely no common sense. I didn't even understand the first sentence that came out of his wrinkly old pie hole!

I leaned back in my seat, my eyes drifting closed. It was my first class of sixth year and I was already bored. Great. My grey eyes snapped open as a sharp pain stabbed me in my side. I flicked my gaze - well, glare really, but I didn't want to call it that - to my best (and only) friend.

Teagan Bell, who shall often be referred to as The Most Annoying Girl In Hogwarts Besides Hermione Granger (perhaps I'll shorten it to TMAGIHBHG), smiled at me. "Don't doze off just yet," she hissed.

I grimaced darkly. "What else am I meant to do, pay attention?"

She muttered something about that being the general idea but I chose to ignore it. We were sitting in the back corner of the classroom, as removed from the other students as possible. I suppose you could call Teag and me the "loser pair". A title we tried our damned hardest to live up to.

I barely registered Flitwick asking a question, well, it's not like I was going to answer him, was it?

I did, however, register the brief flicker of annoyance and anger as Hermione Granger raised her hand and started spouting on for at least two minutes. It was, obviously, the right answer (as if she could say a wrong one...). I didn't doubt that she even gave him the origin of all the key words, dictionary meanings, synonyms, antonyms; she probably spewed up a metaphor or two. You name it, Granger delivered.

I rolled my eyes dramatically at Teag. The corners of her mouth twitched, but she said nothing. Despite my obvious opinion on the subject, my friend had no qualms with Potter and Co. True, she did think Granger was a buck-toothed nerd (not in those words, of course), but she didn't mind Potter and Weasley.

I, on the other hand, hated them.

I could feel my fists clenching at the rising fury.

"C'mon, Vi," hissed Teag. "We have to pair up." She stood up and began to head over to the other side of the room. I watched as she sat down with some Hufflepuff girl, Susan Bones, I think. Well who the bloody hell was I supposed to go with then? It's not like I had been listening when our runty teacher called out the partners. I glanced around wildly, hoping someone would just come sit by me. Damn it. No one was moving.

"Miss Faithe, I do believe that Mr Macmillan is waiting for you," wheezed Flitwick as he tottered past me on unsteady feet. I breathed a sigh of relief, muttered a 'yes, sir,' and stood up. I grabbed my bag and slowly walked over to where Ernie Macmillan was sitting, inconveniently on the other side of the room. At the front. I could have curled my lip. But seeing as I was still working on how to do that, I merely frowned in distaste.

I grunted a hello as a sat down heavily beside the blonde haired boy. He smiled warmly and gave a bright salutation. He pushed his textbook into the centre of the desk so that I could share it, rather than going to the trouble of pulling one out of my bag, an action that would have taken mere seconds. Hufflepuffs were like that.

I sighed. "What do I have to do?" I mumbled.

"Well," said Macmillan happily. "We're to practise confunding someone."

"You want me to confund you?" I asked blankly.

"Without a wand, of course!" he laughed brightly. Everything this pudgy boy did was bright. How ridiculously annoying... "Flitwick isn't silly!"

"Ah. Alrighty then."

"Shall I go first, I've already read about this charm in the book," Ernie's chest seemed to expand as he said this. Can you say 'pompous'?

I waved my hand for him to continue. "Be my guest."

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. I stared at him, trying to hold back a snigger. The boy was serious. He was actually trying to cast a Confundus charm on me. _Without a wand_! Oh dear sweet Merlin this was priceless. My aunt always said Hufflepuffs were useful for something. Only, I think she was talking about racking up a body count...

Suddenly and quite without warning, Ernie shouted, "_Confundo_!" at the top of his lungs. I jumped back in surprise, but not before he'd whipped his arm up to perform the appropriate wand movement and bashed me in the nose. I reeled backwards, clutching my face.

"Macmillan, you brain-dead fool!" I cried. A little bit of blood dribbled over my fingers.  
Ernie opened his eyes. He had been so caught up in the moment of casting a 'perfect' charm that he hadn't even noticed that he'd nearly knocked me out, the dumb toad!

"Huh?" he asked in confusion. "What happened?"

Flitwick, sensing, or rather hearing, the commotion, had hobbled over to sort us out. "What is going on here Miss Faithe, Mr Macmillan?"

"Good question, professor," I answered, laying sarcasm over my words like gooey thick marmalade. "I believe _Ernie_, here" - I shot him a death glare - "tried to confund me."

"But I didn't use a wand!" Ernie interjected. "I used my hand!"

"And you bloody well nearly knocked me unconscious with it, you knobhead!"

"Huh? But it was an accident!"

"Mr Macmillan, apologise to Violent. Miss Faithe, do you need to see Madam Pomfrey?" asked Flitwick kindly.

I shook my head, wiping the remnants of the blood with my sleeve.

"Sorry, Violent," said Ernie seriously. "I really didn't mean to whack you."

I felt a sudden burst of shame for getting so worked up; Ernie looked visibly distressed. I shook my head. "No, it's alright. I guess I overreacted a tad..." I made an effort to smile at him. This resulted in a weak grimace.

Flitwick clapped his hands together. "Now, how about you two begin the homework? I'd rather not have any more accidents," he looked as if he was about to add something else, but his eye caught movement to his left. "Ah, well done Miss Granger! That flourish was excellent!"

I glowered before turning back to Macmillan. "Alright, let's start this essay..."

~xox~

"That was bloody hilarious," giggled Teag through her mouthful of sandwich. "You should have seen your face!"

"Sod off," I said obnoxiously. "I feel terrible about yelling at him."

She choked down another mouthful of sandwich through her laughter. "I think he was about to cry!"

I muttered something about her being a sadist bitch under my breath, but she didn't hear me.

The Great Hall was surprisingly empty today. I looked around, noting the very serious lack of presence at the Gryffindor table.

"Where is everyone?" I asked.

"Outside practising for Quidditch tryouts, probably... My sister is," said Teag. I really need to teach that girl some table manners. She was revolting. Seeing heavily salivated mouthfuls of food was hardly a relaxing lunch break image. Teagan's sister was in Seventh Year and was the famed Gryffindor Chaser, Katie Bell. That's wonderful; except that my friend usually dragged me down to watch her matches, which put me in a painfully close proximity to Potter. And trust me, a stand full of screaming fans cheering "Potter! Potter!" was not my idea of a good time. Actually it was far from it. More than once, I had been asked to go sit in the Slytherin stand due to my serious lack of enthusiasm. I didn't, of course. That would have been really awkward.

Few people in my House knew that I spent most summers moving between Malfoy Manor and the Lestrange mansion. Actually, no one in Gryffindor knew that, not even Teag. Could you imagine the ridicule and scandal? Draco isn't as bad as everyone seems to think. Really, he's only a touch arrogant, and if you have a sharp tongue and a keen fist, you can put him straight back in his place. No hexes necessary. I was only really put out when I was told that I had to go to Crabbe or Goyle's places. That was pure torture. And believe me; I know a thing or two... or ten about torture.

"You should try out, you know..."

"Huh?" I spluttered. I hadn't been listening to a word she said. I almost felt sorry for Teagan. I had been known to completely zone out for hours at a time, and she'd keep talking, thinking I was paying attention. After five or so years of being friends, I had finally gotten my method down-pat. Alternate between a nod, a "yeah...", "Merlin! I know!" and "What a cow!" and she doesn't even notice. Fool proof, except when she asked a question. Like now.

"Try out for the Quidditch team," she repeated slowly, her dark eyes flashing. Damn. I'd been caught. Not as fool proof as I thought. "Merlin knows you'd get on. You got some serious athletic skills, Vi."

Did I mention that Teag was annoying? No matter how hard I tried, or how much I yelled, I could not get her to stop calling me 'Vi'. Grr. I hated that nickname. Unfortunately, with a sodding name like 'Violent', it left little in the way of other nicknames. Damn my bitch of a mother, curse her to hell!

"Are you even listening to me?"

My eyes widened. "Sure I am," I answered quickly. "And we both know that I will never try out for Quidditch. Unless Potter got dropped, in which case, I'd be more than happy."

She rolled her eyes. "One day, you're going to tell me why you hate Harry so much. _He's not that bad_!"

Well he went and got my sodding father murdered, didn't he? "Don't call him Harry. It makes him sound like a person... And besides, the only reason _you_ like him is because you think his eyes are dreamy."

"And they absolutely are."

"I beg to differ. His irises are the colour of snot. In _winter_!"

"You're a horrible person, Vi..."

I sighed at the use of the nickname. "I know..."

We packed our books into our bags (translation: I shoved my books in my 'sack', and Teagan neatly and possibly alphabetically placed hers in her shoulder bag) before standing up to leave the Great Hall. Our empty plates disappeared from the table as we turned away.

"Parvati thinks that Professor Dumbledore was joking at the feast and that Hagrid's teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts this year," said Teag sociably. Another thing about my annoying best friend is that she is unbelievably gullible. It doesn't usually work out particularly well as I am a heavily sarcastic person myself, and she doesn't always pick up on it straight away. I would say "Idiot!", but that would be mean.

I laughed. "I think you need to stop listening to Parvati, Teag," I shook my head. "And besides, Dumbledore clearly said that Snape was taking Defence this year."

She groaned. "Trust you to ruin my fantasy..."

"Fantasy? With Hagrid teaching Defence, I'd be afraid for my _life_."

Teagan shook her head, her honey blonde curls puffing out about her face. We walked quickly to the classroom. Whilst I was not horribly opposed to Severus Snape - as was every other Gryffindor I knew - I did not fancy being late to his class. Sure, I'm a little weird, but I don't have a death wish.

As it was, Teag and I were right on time. Snape was ushering the Gryffindors and Slytherins into the classroom. We took our seats in the middle row. It was much gloomier than usual, the curtains had been drawn and flickering candles hovered in the air. The walls were covered with gruesome images of people in pain.

"I do wonder what spells were used on those poor people," whispered Teag, shaking her head.

"Don't wonder," I said, more sharply than I intended. "Dark magic, they are..."

I didn't mention that I knew every spell that was depicted on the walls. In practice. No, that was going to be just one more secret that I kept to myself.

I was too busy staring at the agonised people in the illustrations to notice that Snape had begun his lesson. "The Dark Arts are many, varied, ever-changing, and eternal. Fighting them is like fighting a many-headed monster, which, each time a neck is severed, sprouts a head even fiercer and cleverer than before. You are fighting that which is unfixed, mutating, indestructible." I could almost hear him purring.

I watched as the greasy haired, hook nosed man addressed the silent class. I could see Potter practically squirming in his seat.

"...What is the advantage of a non-verbal spell?"

I rolled my eyes, knowing perfectly well that Hermione had just grazed her knuckles on the ceiling after throwing her hand in the air. I settled back in my seat, preparing to sit through the rest of the lesson in a meaningless daze. Until the slimy git had to go and pair us up.

"Faithe, Malfoy. Now."

Oh dear sweet Circe. That was just _brilliant_. Exactly what I needed on my first day back. I sighed. It could have been worse - I could have been paired with Potter. What was it with teachers and pairs anyway?

I stayed in my seat. Malfoy could bloody well come find me this time. And he did, to my surprise.

"Violent," he nodded curtly at me, his blonde head bobbing slightly.

I smiled tightly. "Draco... how was your summer?" I asked quietly.

His face, if possible, seemed to lose what remained of its colour, and there wasn't much of it to start with. "Fine," he said, mouth rapidly cutting out the word. "I didn't see you."

I pulled out my wand and pushed up my sleeves, ready to begin. "No. I was with Rodolphus and Rabastan," I answered slowly, my voice a whisper.

He nodded in response. He knew as well as I did that I couldn't tell him much more. It was an unwritten code amongst us, Children of the Dark. Don't say more than what could be interpreted by others. We had made a club of sorts when we were young - Malfoy, Goyle, Crabbe, Theo and myself. We were too young to serve or be of any use to our Death Eater parents, and too old to simply pretend that nothing was going on. I remember my mother having the entire clan for dinner one night. I swear, it was one of the scariest nights of my life, I honestly thought Fenrir Greyback was going to eat me.

We did our work silently. Well, meaning I attempted to hex Malfoy and he would defend himself non-verbally. He didn't ask why I never took a turn, for which I was grateful. He knew my skills - or lack thereof - did not extend to non-verbal spells. I had difficulty enough casting a decent jinx out loud.

Potter opened his big mouth to ruin the lesson. If I may say so myself, he was rather rude to poor Snape. It must have been somewhat funny though, as even Malfoy sniggered, though he did try to hide it. I was pleased when Snape gave him a detention.

The greasy haired teacher dismissed us, saving an extra venomous glare for Potter. Wow. That glare _really_ was something to aspire to. I think I'm going to have to start practising in the mirror to live up to a glare like that one.

"Mr Malfoy, Miss Faithe, if I could have a word?" Snape said quietly as we tried to escape. Draco automatically tensed. I had a suspicion he knew something I didn't, though it was probably just the stress from his father being in Azkaban.

I received a pitying stare from Teag and most of the other Gryffindors. I may not be well liked, but there was generally a common agreement when it came to Severus Snape.  
I turned back to the man I had known practically since birth. "Yes, sir?" Draco stood dutifully beside me, not saying a word.

"Your mother gave me this to give to you. She said to wish you a... pleasant year."

It was in that moment that I knew a plan had been hatched. I knew something was forming. The Dark Lord was beginning to exert his power. I wondered distantly whether I should feel afraid. Snape handed me a thick envelope, its wax seal strained to contain its bulging cargo. I frowned. My mother usually wrote me twice a year, for Christmas and my birthday. It was unusual for her to contact me for no reason.

I thanked him, shot a glance at Draco who was still standing stock-still beside me, and bolted from the room. I stuffed the letter in my bag, planning to read it tonight in the privacy of the girl's sixth.

~xox~

"What's that you've got there, Vi?" asked Teag as she crawled beneath her sheets. She had seen the crumpled envelope in my hand. Parvati and Lavender were already asleep. Granger hadn't come up yet. And I hoped it stayed like that.

I was also in the process of wrapping myself in duvet-induced warmth. I shrugged. "Letter from my mum."

"Oh, neat," she yawned theatrically. "Well, g'night then!"

"Night," I muttered absently. I leaned back against my pillows. The letter had been burning a hole in my side all effin' day. Can you say frustration? I was, for some strange reason, hesitant about opening it. I had drawn my curtains, so no one would be able to view my confusion. My mother, Callista Selwyn, was a hard woman. Simply saying that her closest friend was Bellatrix Lestrange should tell you enough about her. Yep, she's besties with the woman who killed the man who sired her firstborn child. As if that's not weird! And I think I used to many 'who's in that sentence, but, hey - live a little!

I broke the wax seal somewhat tentatively. I took a deep breath before pulling out the piece of parchment inside, like I was preparing to run a marathon. With the note, a heavy hunk of silver fell into my palm. I unravelled the long, delicate chain of the necklace and held the pendant up to my eyes to see it better. It was spherical, about the size and shape of Snitch. It seemed to be comprised of a bunch of silver ropes, all knotted together around a ball. Upon closer inspection, I realised it was snake, curling and constricting around something. I peered at it, twisting it in my hands. It was a heart. It was a snake slowly choking a little heart. I put it back in the envelope, too afraid to put it around my neck, before unfolding the letter.

_Dearest Violent, _  
_I hope you are well settled at school and that Severus got this letter to you on one of your calmer days_.

Wow. My mother trusts Severus Snape to pick a woman on her 'calm' day. The poor man must have been tearing his greasy hair out trying to decide if I was having a 'calm' day or not. I must remember to smile at him next time. I'd hate to keep darling Severus awake with worry. Not!

_I have a request for you. _

Oh, just one?

_Meet me at Hogsmeade next weekend. We need to talk about it all. I owe you that much. _  
_Despite what you may think, I am your mother and I want the best for you and I feel guilty and sad about everything that has happened. Please meet me. This owl will bring your reply to me. _

_My love, _  
_Callista _

I coughed quietly. Look up my mum in the dictionary and you will find 'bipolar'. It was like she couldn't make up her mind if she loved me or not. How frustrating. I leaned back against the headboard of my bed, sighing deeply. In a word, I was confused. I barely saw my mother anymore; she never left the Dark Lord's side. My half-sister Miriam-Rose, a four year old with big blue eyes and golden curls, lived with father's brother, Joseph. Of what I knew, my mother had no family. I was always shipped out, not allowed to step foot in any House of Selwyn.

My eyes had drifted closed, inches from sleep, when the door to our dormitory swung open and someone came in. I sighed. It was probably Granger. I heard her bustling about getting ready for bed. My hangings were drawn closed so I couldn't see her. I think I have a problem: I couldn't bring myself to tell her to fucking be quiet without giving her a cold glare like I would usually do. Pfft. That made no sense. Perhaps I should see a counsellor. I briefly considered throwing open the red curtain and yelling at her, but I couldn't bring myself to sit up.

I pulled a hand across my face, trying to ease some of the exhaustion that seemed to cling to me like a fog. I gasped. My hand came away wet. I stared at the offending salty liquid with something akin to shock. Was I... _crying_?

My eyes widened. I hadn't cried since third year. I felt my breath coming quickly. Was this about my mum? Was everything just bubbling up? Merlin, I can feel the waterworks coming. Ahhhh... _ruuuuunnnnn awwwaaayyyy_!

"Violent?" I heard a voice. I tried to pull my curtains away to tell the person to mind their own business, but I got tangled in my sheets. "Violent, are you okay?"

I tried to growl but only emitted a strangled sob. Had I taken a potion or something by mistake? _What the hell? _

"Violent? It's Hermione. What's wrong, are you crying?"

"No!" I almost shouted.

"I'm waking Teagan."

_Don't wake Teagan, you bucktoothed mule! She's asleep!_

"I'm fine!"

"Are you sure?" she asked. Her nerdy voice was closer this time, like, right next to me. Was she a rapist as well as a loser? Oh brilliant. Just what I needed.

"Of course I'm sure! Now go away you stupid bint!"

Silence.

Maybe that was a tad harsh. Not that I'm going to apologise or anything. My conscience has been begging for something to chew on for a while now.

I closed my eyes again after ten minutes. I could hear gentle snoring and Granger had fallen asleep. I thought about my mum, wondering what could possibly have happened to make her want to see me.

When I think about it, I realise just how little I really know about my mother. Callista Faithe was from a small, not-very-well-known pureblood family. Nearly all of them had been Ravenclaws. When she was at school, she had nothing to do with the Death Eater wannabes. She was normal. She had known my father since she was eleven. He was a popular kid, she was a geeky bookworm. I had no idea how they had become close. I was born when she was twenty three. I didn't know what she did with me until the age of five. I didn't know where we had lived, what job she'd had, not a thing. Until she took me to Albania, in search or the darkest of monsters.

She found him, a dark shade of his former glory, living off animals in an evil place, a forest of shadows. I remember my mother then, her hand in mine as she dragged me into the trees. I hadn't wanted to go, I had been frightened.

She cared for him, found animals for him to possess, for he had refused to take her body for more than a few hours at a time. We lived in Albania for five years. When I was seven, the Dark Lord took my left forearm and pressed my mother's wand against the pale skin there. I can't remember the incantation, but a black skull, encircled by a snake, sunk bitingly slowly, into my flesh. I cried; it had hurt a lot. He soothed me, told me it was alright.

And though we were no more than tools for him, playthings to fill in the lonely years, the three of us were happy until a man named Quirrell came along. I didn't like him from the first. He found us, that day in the forest. He'd seen my mother in the town and followed her. I think he fancied her, but I wasn't sure. He saw us, kneeling and talking to an enormous snake. Naturally, this begged a few questions.

The Dark Lord saw in him an opportunity. He was a teacher at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, to which I was leaving for in a month. The Dark Lord formed a plan and, with complex magic, found a way to share his body. I remember, at nearly eleven years old, feeling repulsed by the man with two faces. My mother came up with the idea of a turban and we travelled unnoticed to England. We bought my school books and I bid a tearful goodbye to my mother. Quirrell gave her a letter from the Dark Lord when we were stepping onto an enormous steam train, at Platform 9¾, and heading to Hogwarts.

I suppose I had a reasonably good relationship with my mother until that morning, at eleven o'clock, when a shiny red steam train and a man in a purple turban pulled me away from her, possibly severing our bonds forever.

I blamed, and still do blame, Voldemort for destroying my mother. And I told him so too.

~xox~

I woke the next morning with a headache. Teag was waiting for me in the commonroom. She saw my face, the fatigue that must have been etched there like a poorly painted picture, and said not a word. She led me to breakfast and piled some toast on my plate.

Teagan was annoying sometimes, generally babbling a lot. But she was my best friend and she knew me well, not my past, not my family, but she knew me. And she knew when I required her company and not her words. I basked in the silence she permitted. She took me to class and sat me at the back of the room, without having said a word. I was grateful.

The letter that was crushed in my palm seemed to itch, but I could not release the muscles to let it go. The eerie necklace was in my book bag. I didn't want to leave it lying around in the dormitory.

I fell forward and let my head touch the desk. It was Defence Against the Dark Arts, and like Teagan, Snape knew to leave me be. And I appreciated it. He must have known it had something to do with the letter he delivered yesterday. He let me lie on my desk for the entire lesson, only reminding me at the end to catch up on the work I had ignored. I told him I would and he dismissed me.

I walked silently through the day like a zombie. I couldn't force myself to concentrate. At lunch, Teag positioned us beside Parvati and Lavender, so that she could talk to _someone_. I knew she couldn't stand the two gossipers, but I was unresponsive.

By the time we headed back up to Gryffindor Tower that evening, I still had not decided whether to meet my mother in Hogsmeade or not. I sat in the comfortable armchair by the fire and let the confusion take me, tearing at my thoughts like a starving animal. I wondered idly if my mother was waiting for my reply.

The owl she had sent was sitting on the open windowsill. It was cold. I got up to shut the door, but the tawny bird would not fly away. I sighed and let it in. I went to the desk and pulled out a piece of parchment. I dipped my quill in the inkwell. I wrote my reply, with as few words as were necessary, and tied to the owl's leg. I re-opened the window and watched the golden-feathered bird fly into the night, a frown settled on my white features.

~xox~

**AN: Please review everyone!! Tell me what you like, what you hate, what I can improve. Hell, review me if you just feel like a little chat. **  
**xox xox**


	3. Chapter 2

**AN: Woot! Update! And so soon, even though I'm in the middle of my end-of-year exams too! I'm hoping you're all enthralled enough to read more? Just wanted to apologise in advance - my version of Dumbledore in this story is not accurate. For some reason, I just can't seem to write the quirky old man everyone loves, so I'm sorry. But, it's just a story after all, so let's not be too harsh, eh? Thanks and enjoy!  
**

**Violent Deception**

**Chapter Two**

**  
**It was in Herbology the next afternoon, the last class before dinner, that I was sent directly to my personal hell. I had been talking to Teagan, perhaps a dozen decibels too loud, and Professor Sprout moved me. _Next to Potter. **Potter**!_ Hell, I would have preferred to jump in the Lake completely starkers.

The whole class stared at me in silent anticipation as I messily piled my books up and moved beside him, hissing and muttering words that would make Voldemort himself turn weak at the knees. It was no secret that I was not a Potter fan. It's not like I tried to hide my avid dislike for the Boy Who Blows.

I glared at the bespectacled runt with snot coloured eyes as I sat down. I felt a burst of pride when he broke eye contact and looked around in fear. Granger scowled at me. Obviously she hadn't forgotten the other night. Weasley, on the other hand, is too stupid to notice the ice in the air. I think I would like Weasley, actually, if he wasn't friends with Potter.

"Violent," muttered the Saviour. Merlin, even my thoughts were turning sarcastic.

"Potter!" I said cheerfully. He looked frightened as he stared at the pot in front of him. "I hear you went all hero on us again last year. How are the fans?"

He looked up, his ugly eyes growing wide with shock. Oh come on! Who didn't know what had happened at the ministry? "I don't know what you're talking about..." he mumbled.

"Sure you don't," I returned.

"Violent, that's enough."

I turned to look at Granger. Her face was red. I must have really upset the girl. Oh well. "Oh, I'm sorry. Was I talking to you, beaver?"

I almost laughed to myself as Weasley visibly bristled. I think he was about to start yelling when Sprout waddled over. "Miss Faithe, after you have finished re-potting that Derinklet there, Professor Dumbledore would like to see you."

"Of course, Professor. I think it's pretty urgent, do you mind if I go now?"

Sprout turned back to me, her muddy brown eyes hidden beneath her frown. "But what about your potting? At least finish the first one so it isn't wasted."

I grinned easily at her. "It would be no trouble for Harry here to pot it for me, Professor."

"Oh. Well, yes you can go, if Mr Potter finishes up for you." She began her strut/stumble up to the next desk.

I smiled satanically at the Golden Trio before shoving my books in my bag and walking quickly from the green house. I thanked Potter, very sarcastically, as I left. I heard Weasley call me a bitch as I walked away. My grin widened.

It fell again as soon as I reached the castle. I did not want to see Albus Dumbledore, not now, not ever.

_What had he figured out?_

He had had the whole summer to work out what was so wrong with my life. Oh Mother of Merlin, he was going to organise a counselling session for me. Oh god. Oh... oh god. Noooo. He's going to realise that I hate Harry Potter - his favourite ever student - and send me to St Mungo's. Or worse, _Azkaban_. And I hadn't even killed anybody... yet.

My breaths were coming shorter. I walked quickly through the cold corridors, taking the fastest route to Dumbledore's rooms. In my head, I began to formulate a plan.

Plan A: figure out just how much he knows and then conceive the biggest lie ever told in the history of Hogwarts.

And if that fails or he doesn't believe me, there's always Plan B: _run._

I stopped to regain my composure at the stone gargoyle that guarded Dumbledore's office. I really did not want to be here. I whispered the password and the gargoyle jumped aside. I dashed up the stairs, in my head repeating a mantra of 'don't tell the truth, don't tell the truth, don't tell the truth.' And why wasn't I in Slytherin, you ask? Believe me, if I knew that, I would be a few scars and bent finger less. Thanks to my lovely, most caring Aunt Bellatrix. Actually, I think she's my second cousin, but what the hey?

The door to Professor Dumbledore's study was closed. I knocked, my heartbeat betraying my otherwise calm exterior.

"Come in," I heard him call. I took a deep breath and pushed open the heavy door. First having to sit with Potter and now this. God must truly hate me.

I stepped inside. Dumbledore's office was dimly lit and, dare I say it, comfortable. I looked around. The wizened old man was seated at his desk. His cool blue eyes were watching me intently from behind his half moon spectacles. It was like he was sizing me up, although I knew Albus Dumbledore, Saviour of the Universe or whatever, would never be so rude.

"You wanted to see me, sir?" I asked calmly, going to stand before him. The benches in the room were covered with various items, all shining with bronze, or gold, or silver. They looked like torture instruments. I swallowed. What a silly thought. Dumbledore wasn't going to _torture me_.

"I did," he said happily. "Have a seat, Violent."

I nodded and planted myself in the chair before his desk. I could already tell that this was going to end in a disagreement. I took yet another shaky breath. He knew. I could tell. It was in his eyes, those piercing blue orbs. _He knew everything._

"Do you remember the conversation we had last year? In which I asked you about your family." He entwined his thumbs; the overall image he presented of an interested person was very thorough.

_Of course I remember you stupid wizard! I was there!_

"Yes, sir. I remember."

"You didn't tell me very much," he smiled at me.

_Maybe I find something disturbing in wrinkly old bearded men digging around in my closet looking for a skeleton._

"No. I didn't. Is there something you wanted, professor?" I asked, rather rudely.

He looked at me, his gaze a tad steelier. He had obviously picked up my abrupt tone. "Yes. There is something I want from you. Though I doubt very much you want to give it to me."

_Merlin's. Left. Testicle. Albus Dumbledore is a paedophilic rapist._

He continued, ignoring the shocked expression on my face. "I want a little honesty, Violent. I know a little more about you now. I know the people your family associates with and I know that you don't want me to know that."

Lie or run? A few split seconds of thought had me making a choice. And surprisingly, it was neither option I had previously mentioned - silence. But for how long that would work, I didn't know. Wow. There was a lot of knowing going on here.

"I don't mean to upset you, Violent, and I'm not threatening you. I am asking for help."

_Translation: 'help' to 'information'. _And though I hated them all, I was not a rat. He can have all the help he wants, but he will get no secrets from me.

He waited for my response, but seeing that none was forthcoming, he ploughed on. "I understand that plans are being made, and Hogwarts is quite central in them, do you agree?"

"I wouldn't know," I mumbled. _And I wouldn't tell you if I did._

"And you don't plan on divulging your family's secrets, am I correct?"

_As always, professor. _I shook my head, indicating that I had no idea what he was talking about. Dumbledore sighed at my lack of cooperation. If he had thought that I, Violent Faithe, would play nicely in his little game of Truth, then he was a bigger fool than my family gave him credit for. And that was saying something.

"Fine..." he muttered. "When did you first meet Voldemort?"

I flinched at the name. He noticed. How dare he ask questions like that? I felt the first licks of fury begin to stir in my stomach. Oh great. A rowing matching with Dumbledore was really going to solve my problems.

"Your mother sees a fair bit of him, doesn't she?" he watched for my reaction. He was goading me, and I knew it. He was bringing up everything that upset me, anything to make me crack. Callista could see whoever she damn well pleased and I would have told him so, but he would have taken the heated argument as a confirmation. I wasn't sure why he was asking these questions. It looked like he already knew the answers. Further reason for me not to say anything.

Dumbledore sighed. He knew I had no intention of responding to his interrogation. I stared at patch of wood on his desk. It was a few shades darker than rest of the honey oak. It looked out of place. "Violent, I believe one of your friends is being threatened by Voldemort. He's been asked to do something horrible, so tainted it could split his young soul. When I say I'm not trying to back you into a corner, I mean it. I really do need your help, for he will not accept any from me. Especially me."

I looked up, my grey eyes meeting his. I knew exactly who he was talking about, had known him all my life, had sat with him in Potions. "What's Draco been asked to do?" I asked quietly. "Is he alright?"

The nod he gave me, and the short smile were the only indications that he had acknowledged my sudden ability to formulate a sentence. "Draco is fine. He is safe here at Hogwarts. But he is under heavy pressure, fearing that Voldemort will kill his parents, as he had threatened. I'm afraid he'll crack."

My eyebrows furrowed, as if someone was digging on my forehead. "Why are you talking about this to me? You obviously think I'm going to run and tell my mummy about your suspicions."

Dumbledore smiled slightly at my quick reply. "If I believed that you trusted your mother with your friend's safety and happiness, perhaps I would be worried. But, sadly, I do not for a second think that your mother would be the first person you would go to for help."

I glared at him. How presumptuous to think that my relationship with my own frickin' mother was strained. I mean, it _was_. But that's not the point! And no, I would never go running to Callista Faithe-Selwyn if I needed help. I would probably go directly to Rodolphus, my favourite 'uncle'. Despite him being married to Aunt Bella and a convicted Death Eater, he was a pretty good bloke. Since he got out of Azkaban, I had always gone to the Lestranges during the summers, before that it had been the Malfoys. While it was tolerable and definitely preferable to living with my mother, Aunt Cissy was always trying to dress me up into the Slytherin Princess I was supposed to be. I prefer Rodolphus'. He was always willing to spend time with me. Bella was never there, preferring to keep the company of the Dark Lord and my mother than her husband and brother-in-law. Not that I saw Rabastan (said brother-in-law) all too much. He was always... away. I felt that fire of fury in the pit of my stomach roar into a blistering inferno. Damn him and his assumptions! Just who did he think he was?

"Sure," I said harshly, losing my cool. Damn it. The words were about to start spewing out now. Oh god... "I suppose you're right, _sir. _I wouldn't go to my mother for help... not when I could go _higher up_. And get better results."

Dumbledore didn't move. Maybe he didn't know as much as I had thought. Oh crap. Oh shit. Oh hell. Oh _fuck_. Damn me and my big mouth.

I was as good as dead. I had practically admitted that I was a follower of Voldemort. My breathing rate picked up, my heart thudding viciously against my ribcage like an animal in the last throes of life, fighting for all its worth. I looked up and saw the old, silver-bearded man contemplating this. He didn't look surprised, merely sad.

There was a knock on the door, followed by the turning of a handle. I leapt from my seat, my hand going to my wand (not that it could have saved me or anything, I was that magically-defected). Bloody hell they were quick. The Dark Lord must have known I was going to talk. I had just realised I was about to murdered and my only thoughts were: _oh fuck_. Just what you need to hear in your last moments of life, let me tell you.

Dumbledore eyed my extreme reaction (which had occurred in a matter of nanoseconds, I was proud to say) with interest. The door slid open and Severus Snape stepped into the room. My eyes widened and jumped back, ramming my arse into one of the silver/bronze/gold covered benches. With a hiss of pain, I started to search for an escape. A window. A trapdoor. _Anything_...

Snape looked at me in confusion. He had to be quick if he was going to kill me in front of Dumbledore. Wait - I had just admitted to being rather closely acquainted with the Dark Lord. _Saint Dumbledore_ wouldn't be the first person to save my life. Oh shit. I continued to back away, cussing and swearing under my breath. I may have mentioned Snape's mother a couple of times as well. Sue me.

"Violent, come and sit down. Snape is going to help you," said the Headmaster quietly.

"Yeah, help me out of my _life_," I spat back at him. "Do you realise what I've just said? He's here to fucking kill me!"

Snape sneered at me. "_Language_, Miss Faithe. And I'm not here to kill you; I like to think that I have better things to do with my time."

"Oh? What? Kill _other_ people, then?"

He stood purposely before Dumbledore's desk. My breathing was still fast. I knew that Snape was a spy for the Dark Lord. Did Dumbledore? He had always thought Snape had turned spy for the 'good' side. I knew this entire catastrophe would be relayed to his master. In that moment, I seemed to piece it together. Why Snape was here. Why he was standing expectantly before Dumbledore. He was...

I jumped forward; my arms stretched out in front of me, and dived on him, his black robes enveloping me as we fell in a collective heap, to the hard floor. I grunted as my elbow slammed into the thick surface.

"_You can't kill Dumbledore!"_ I screeched, pounding him in the chest with my small fists. He bellowed at me like a demented walrus.

"Violent, your attempt to save my life is appreciated," said Dumbledore, chuckling, as if his assassination amused him. I always knew he was crazy, but really? "But if you could refrain from physically assaulting my staff, it would also be highly valued."

I crawled shakily to my feet. Oh sweet Circe's negligee, I had just spear tackled Severus Snape. I was _so_ Fenrir Greyback's next meal, it wasn't even funny. "Uh, so he's not here to kill you?"

"No. Severus is here to help. To give to our current cause."

"Ah... Sorry, professor." I looked, wide-eyed, at my Potions professor as he stood up and dusted off his midnight robes. I watched in wonderment. Give to our current cause? Puh-lease. The most likely thing Severus Snape was going to give to Dumbledore's beloved _cause_ was a betrayal and/or a murder (or several).

He glared at me and it was nothing short of brutal. "Understandable," he said malevolently. "Your reaction to a threat on your headmaster's life is quite commendable."

Oh crap. Not only had I spewed up some rubbish information about my involvement with the Death Eaters, I had just tried to save Dumbledore's not-actually-threatened life. And possibly gotten myself mixed up in a 'plan'. The Dark Lord really was going to kill me now.

Dumbledore gestured for us both to sit down. I stiffly took a seat beside Snape. And it was certainly not a comfortable or safe place to be.

"Severus, I've already told you about Draco. You know what I expect of you."

Snape nodded curtly. "I tried to talk to him. He refused my help. I think he was still undecided on how he would go about it."

I frowned, the tension in the room seemed to catapult, thickening with every intake of breath. "Go about what? What is it, exactly, that Draco's gotta do?"

"I'm sorry, Violent," said Dumbledore slowly, shaking his head. "I'm afraid I can't tell you that. Only that he needs your support now more than ever."

"Can't, or won't?" I asked sourly.

"Well," he shrugged, his eccentric blue robes swishing at the movement. "It's open to interpretation, but I prefer 'can't'. Will you do it?"

I opened my mouth to tell him exactly what I planned to do (it involved my not-often-used wand, a thumbtack and if I was feeling particularly creative, perhaps even a cheese grater) but thought better of it. "You keep asking me to do something for you without ever getting round to explaining what it is. And, not to mention, I feel disinclined to accept this... demand without knowing why I'm doing it."

"I told you that you can't know why. And I am asking you to be an arm of support for Draco. Help him with whatever he needs and be there for him in general."

"Uh, sir? Just a flaw in the Plan there. Draco won't ask for help. We barely talk. And technically because of my House associations and a certain Scar-Headed Wonder always getting in my way, I may have difficulty befriending the Slytherin God."

I looked at Snape. Was he pondering the words 'Slytherin God'? I bet he was. In jealousy. Dumbledore was still staring at me. Honestly, it was beginning to get a little rude. Didn't his mother ever teach him some manners?

"What is that you have against Harry Potter?" he asked, leaning forward on his elbows.

"I hate Potter. I wish him a fiery, painful death," I stated bluntly, without any inflection or emphasis. Snape coughed. I wondered if he was not-so-subtly hiding an exclamation of agreement.

"It makes me upset to hear you say that. Harry is a wonderful boy."

I looked at him, curling my lip into a sneer. "Well, gee, Professor, I'd hate to make you upset..."

"There's no need for sarcasm or rudeness here, Miss Faithe," said Snape sharply. What's he talking about? He completely agreed with me, didn't he? What a hypocrite.

I stood up. I was not dragged here to sing the snot-eyed runt's praises and I definitely wasn't staying for the Prayer of Potter either. Ooh. That was a good call. I must make a mental note of that one. "Fine," I said stiffly, as I turned for the door. "I will be there to support Draco and be his light in a dark time. Happy?"

Dumbledore smiled at me. The brightness of it took about ten years off his face. When he smiled like that he only looked, like, four hundred or something. "Impeccably. I knew you would. You are your father's daughter, after all..."

I spun, my hands clenching into tight fists of anger and shock. My brows were newly acquainted with my hair line. I stared hard at him, my grey eyes filled with white-hot fury. "What did you just say?" I hissed dangerously.

Dumbledore stood, followed closely by Snape who looked horribly close to vomiting. "The daughter of Sirius Black was never meant to follow Voldemort, Violent. There was a reason you were sorted into Gryffindor."

My fingers attempted to gauge the skin of my palms. "How dare you presume to tell me about my father, whom I have never met in my life, and expect me to help you out? Huh?" my voice had risen in volume. It was meant to come out as a growl, or even a yell, but instead came out as a strangled cry of pain. How embarrassing.

"Violent..."

"No. I'll not talk about this," I snarled - yes, _snarled_ - at him. Go Violent. You tell 'em, girl. "You're lucky that I am going to be so forgiving and pretend that never slipped out of your insensitive mouth. And on that note, I'm off. Lovely to see you all."

And I walked out. Just like that.

You have absolutely no idea just how good it felt to put Albus Dumbledore in his place. _I just told my Headmaster off for being a presumptuous arse._ It was elating.

I'd already missed dinner and I considered wandering to the kitchens to see if I could get some food, but simply couldn't be bothered. I traipsed back up to Gryffindor Tower in a daze. I probably looked like half-stoned troll.

I ignored the raucous activity in the commonroom and headed straight up to the girl's dormitory. I dumped my books at the end of my bed. I didn't bother to check for any homework I might have had. I just changed out of my uniform and crawled into my bed. I didn't even bother to pull the covers over me or close the hangings. I just lay there, eyes wide, replaying that horrible conversation over and over in my mind. He knew that I was Sirius Black's daughter. He _knew_. It wasn't even on my goddamn birth certificate and yet he still knew.

_You are your father's daughter, after all..._

How the fucking hell was I supposed to know if I was my father's daughter? Huh? Riddle me this: how could a person who was so heavily influenced by a traumatic childhood among Death Eaters and other various evils (cough the Dark Lord cough), act in any possible way like a man they had never known, seen or heard.

Alright, so I knew I must look like him. My mother had light, short, curly brown hair, tanned skin and olive-coloured eyes and pink, rosebud lips. She also had a heart-shaped face and was short as a common garden gnome. My face, in comparison, was sharp, white and angular with high cheek bones, my lips full, but nearly always cast downward. My brows were fine and black and my eyes, though heavily lidded were a clear, icy grey and framed by thick black lashes. I was also very tall. My black hair fell dead straight to halfway down my back

I wasn't a bad looker, or concerned about my image. But I always knew I wasn't cute like my half sister, Miriam-Rose, or beautiful like my mother. But I wasn't as sharp and evil-looking as Aunt Bella. Though we did share many similarities. And that bothered me to no end.

I heard the door open, but I didn't look up. I heard the rustling of paper and the sound of an inkpot being unscrewed.

"You were horrible to us today, Violent," said the person. The prissy voice informed me that it was none other than The Nerd herself. Why did she always seem to confront me when I was trying to sleep? It's like she was trying to gradually tire me out so that, eventually, I wouldn't be able to verbally beat the shit out of her. Well, I'm on to you now, Granger. Just you wait. "I want you to go and apologise to Harry."

Hah! Apologise? Me? To _Potter_? Merlin and they said this girl was smart. I didn't say anything, keeping up the pretence of being asleep.

"I know you can hear me, Violent. And I expect a response, or at the very least, some civil banter."

Civil banter? Well, the banter I can live with. Civil, however, just didn't appeal to me. Or my general personality. Sorry. "Hey, Granger? I understand you don't have a life outside of Weasel and Pooper, but I do. And I would like to catch up on some long awaited sleep. If you don't mind, of course. I'd hate do something without your explicit _permission_."

I cracked open an eye to the rather pleasing sight of Granger going red with anger. "How _dare_ you?"

I sighed gruffly and sat up. I grinned wickedly when she automatically shifted back in her bed, dragging what looked to be a twelve-foot essay with her. Instead of physically attacking her, like she was obviously expecting, I simply closed the hangings of my four-poster bed saying, "Oh shut it, _Bucky_. I can't understand you with those two ridiculous white things at the front of your mouth. Well, sweet dreams, _Hermione_."

What a know-it-all. Sure I had been rude but, oh yeah - I was always rude. She really shouldn't be so surprised.

I sighed. I was going to Hogsmeade tomorrow. I had told Callista that I would meet her at some fancy restaurant up in the High Town. Whether I would show up or not was another matter entirely. I was glad my mother wasn't a known Death Eater (except for damn Dumbledore and his not-really-a-spy, Snape). I could imagine walking up the street next to Aunt Bella. Oh God. I reached into my bag, which I had dangled off my bed post, and pulled out the necklace she had sent me.

I looked at it for a couple of minutes, eyeing the detail and craftsmanship that had gone into curling the slender snake around that delicate little heart. Despite its obvious symbology, it was really quite beautiful. I reached up, holding the two ends of the chain around my neck and before I knew what I was doing, I had clipped the clasp into place. The heart and the snake hung just above my (lack of) tits and would be completely hidden my school shirt, unless I were to suddenly lean forward. Its cold weight was oddly comforting and I couldn't help but think of who that little heart was supposed to represent.

And I knew, almost without thinking it, that it was me, slowly being constricted and manually strangled by the expectations and the feeling of isolation that came with being one of the Children of the Dark.

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**AN: OKAY people! You know the drill. see that little button there? click it and type your little hearts away. the next chapter is when 'stuff' begins to happen. Here's a hint to keep you reading (oh, i'm cruel): Violent's secrets begin to spill out.  
Yep. make of that what you while my little darlings. Well, it's 10:30 in PM here and i have an exam at 8:30 tomorrow and i do believe i'm supposed to revise for it. So... ta ta!**

**xox xox**

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	4. Chapter 3

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**Special commendation to Hannahmeh, because seriously, I don't think there has ever been a longer review in the history of the world. You should all follow her example :D**

**Violent Deception  
**

**Chapter Three:**

I woke early, as I had always done. There was something surreal about sleeping past dawn. Yes, people, that's right - I wake at dawn. There's a thing about living with Voldemort's servants and sycophantic followers that gives you the need to be awake and alert as soon as possible.

Today, I was going to Hogsmeade. No biggie, right? Oh, and did I mention that I was supposed to meet my mother? I did? Oh, well you must have some idea of how much we _don't_ get along. I traced my finger along the chain of what had to be the Creepiest Necklace in the World. It was a heart, being slowly choked to death by a serpent. Practically _screams_ Slytherin doesn't it?

I glanced around the dorm room. The other four girls were still asleep, as they usually were at this time on a Saturday. Lavender was snoring slightly. I quickly pulled some clothes on. You may take me for a sweater and jeans kind of gal, and I am, except when I was meeting the 'family'. By 'family', I mean, 'the group of deranged killers that are all wrapped around President Psycho's little finger'. Yeah, that family. I have a rule when I stay with the Lestranges and Malfoys: no muggle clothes. Because, supposedly, muggles are dirty barbarians with no future in this world and they all deserve to be sent into slavery. And glancing at Granger as she slowly pulled herself out of bed, yawning all the while, I could see exactly why they might think that. Oops. Was that a little mean? Oh, I'm so sorry. Not. I also had a very entertaining thought of Hermione being my slave for a day. Merlin, wouldn't that be fun? Right, carried away there. So back to it, I only wore jeans and sweaters and the like when I was near my mother, because she wouldn't punish me for it.

Okay, so I'm betting you are all pretty dang confused about my mum. She's probably not as bad as I make her out to be, and she's definitely not as bad as some of the other Death Eaters. She is the right hand of the Dark Lord. Maybe it's because she followed him to Little Hangleton, to the Riddle House, when I was fourteen, despite her mistrust of his plan. And maybe it's because she found the potion that restored his body and returned him to power, but I think it's because of how she helped him in Albania, when I was still a child, even though she wasn't in his Circle.

Right, so Callista Faithe-Selwyn is the top Death Eater, like, Force One. Surprisingly, she's not particularly sadistic (like Aunt Bella) or cruel (like Lucius) or pure evil (like the Dark Lord himself). Nah, she's pretty tame by Death Eater standards. She doesn't much care for the Dark Arts, preferring to use a quick hex, simple and to the point.

I breathed in, trying to oxygenate my blood, because my pulse felt like a battering ram, trying to jump out of my neck. I shivered, even though I wasn't cold.

I glanced around; there were students everywhere. And why wouldn't they be? It was a Hogsmeade weekend. It was weird how they could all go about their shopping as if nothing was wrong with the world, as if an evil mass murderer was not at large, as if life was fine. Life was not fine. I was one of _them_ , the other side, and I knew that life was far from fine.

I pulled my grey hoodie over my head. I was meeting my mother at _Aries,_ the priciest restaurant in the village. I wondered who was paying, because I certainly wasn't. Despite what you may think, not all Death Eaters are rolling in money. They just all seem to have positions in high places and prestigious family names. The Faithes had not been a well known pureblood family, like the Malfoys or the Lestranges, and had little to no money. I think this is another reason the Dark Lord favours my mother and Snape so much; they weren't there to prove their status amongst the purebloods.

I walked along the lane towards the fancy restaurant. I really didn't want to be here. I really did not want to see my mother. I really did not need this right now.

My fingers brushed the creepy necklace that hung around my neck as I pushed open the glass door. I looked around and saw that the room was decorated lavishly with purple and silver. The chairs were all high backed and elegant. I could picture my (sort of) aunt Narcissa in here, completely at ease. I, on the other hand, felt immediately claustrophobic. I peered around, my shale coloured eyes searching for Callista's head of short, curly brown hair.

She was in the furthest table from the door, elegantly sipping champagne. There was no one seated near her, no one who would hear our upcoming conversation. Or row. She didn't see me until I sat down stiffly, pulling my clammy hands out of the pockets of my hoodie. Her olive coloured eyes flicked to me and she sighed. Wow, gee mum, thanks for making me feel like a disappointment. Seriously, what was her problem? She went to the effort of begging me to meet her and then she acts all high and mighty when I get here? Ridiculous. And she hadn't even said a word yet.

"Mother," I greeted her shortly, snapping my fingers against the table. Her eyes still had not left my face.

"Hello, Violent," she replied, her soft voice floating through my ears like a dream. I didn't like or respect my mother, but her voice was the most calming and peaceful thing I had ever heard in the whole world. And it brought back memories. Painful ones. "Thank you for meeting me. I didn't think you would come."

"Neither did I," I stared at her, my brows raised in confusion. She was acting really weird. Not that she wasn't always weird, but she looked sick, ill. Her normally tanned skin was pale and it was stretched over her face like melted plastic. Not that my mum used Botox or any other of those insane muggle youth operations. Her face was gaunt, hollow. Her eyes were empty of the sparkling light I remembered and there were purple bruises beneath them. "Are you okay?" I asked her cautiously. I wasn't sure I really wanted to know.

Callista smiled softly. "Yeah. Just a little stressed."

A little? She looked inches from death. "What did you want, mum? You said you were going to explain."

She nodded. "I am going to. I thought that after all these years, you have the right to know... about me, your father... everything. I feel guilty keeping it from you. But now, I'm not so sure if you really want to hear it."

She was going to tell me about my father. She was finally going to tell me. I felt the happiness rising and she obviously saw it and shook her head sadly, her brown curls hanging limp by her cheeks. "The Dark Lord also wants you to know everything. So people can't bribe you with information."

I raised an eyebrow. Brilliant. Lord Voldemort knows more about me than I do. How pissed off do I feel on a scale of one to ten? Oh, about a ninety-seven...

She sighed. "He's hard to keep secrets from, Violent. You should know that."

"Just tell me, mum. I want to know. I hate being ignorant. It's shitting me that you, the Dark Lord and Dumbledore all know more about my past than I do. Please, quit the bullshit and just tell me."

Her head whipped up from where she was staring at the table. "Dumbledore? What does he know?" her eyes were wide with shock and ... fear?

"He knows that you're in league with the Dark Lord and he knows who my father is. And he might possibly think I'm acquainted with Vold-"

"Don't say it," she interrupted me. "You know the rules. Is that all he knows?"

"Uhhh..." I thought for a minute. I really hadn't given him much opportunity to spill the beans on my life story. "I'm not sure. That's all I know that he knows."

"Okay. Watch your back. Don't let him find out anything else and for Merlin's sake keep your arm covered." Her eyes darted to my left forearm, where the black tattoo swirled on my creamy skin. I never wore t-shirts; I never rolled my sleeves up when it was hot, constantly afraid that someone might see it.

"But how does he know about me? About my dad?"

Callista scowled and it seemed to distort her face. "I have a fair idea..."

"Okay," I muttered. "Now tell me what you were going to say."

She sighed and leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table, and placing her chin on her palms. Her brows were furrowed; it was obvious that she was uncomfortable. "I knew your father in school; we were friends, but never close. When we left school we got together, started dating. I moved in with him. We were close friends with the Potters, as well as Remus and Wormtail. Sirius and his friends joined the Order of the Phoenix" - she grimaced - "and I worked at the ministry. In law enforcement, and, though I was not a member, I did a lot work for the Order. He proposed to me when I was nineteen. I said yes.

"I fell pregnant and I was planning how to tell Sirius. Lily Potter was about eight months pregnant with Harry. I was sent to Borneo for five months to work with the Department there. I stayed an extra eight weeks more than was required. When I got back to Britain, I definitely showed. Sirius was glad I had gone away, he had said in his letters. The Dark Lord had been gaining power and had targeted members of the Order. Lily's young son was a primary target and the three of them: Lily, James and Harry, went into hiding. Sirius was the secret keeper. Dumbledore hid me as well, knowing that I could be targeted to get Sirius too reveal their location. He still didn't know about the baby, I hadn't seen him and couldn't bear to tell him via letter.

"I don't really know how it happened, but Wormtail became Secret Keeper and revealed the Potter's location to Voldemort. Sirius tracked Pettigrew, and accused him of their betrayal. I told him to go, to find him..." she shook her head and brushed the back of her palm along her eyes, trying to get rid of the moisture there. I was frowning and glaring at my fork, as if it was at fault for this horrible mess.

"Pettigrew killed all those people, he framed Sirius and disappeared. Sirius was taken to Azkaban. I was... distraught. Albus thought I was near catatonic. They wouldn't let me see him; he was a high-security prisoner. It nearly killed me. You were born three weeks later. On August thirteenth. I guess I was deranged. I tried everything. I ran rallies, I appealed to the Wizengamot. Only Dumbledore listened to me, but there was nothing I could do. Everyone thought he was responsible for the deaths of twelve muggles. No one believed me.

"I searched for people who would help, dragging you around the world, trying to find someone with the power to get him out of there. Did you know that when you were two, we spent a year in Russia? There was a woman who considered blowing up Azkaban for me." Callista laughed weakly, her voice dry. "Yeah, I know, I was crazy. Finally, it got too much. I was desperate, beyond reason. I traced the Dark Lord to his hiding place in Albania and we found him there. Do you remember that day, in the forest?"

I nodded, my neck seeming to scream with the effort. I told her to stop, that I was frightened - I was only five years old.

"He promised he'd find a way to help me. I believed him. He couldn't do much without a body and when you were ten, he joined bodies with Quirrell, and suddenly I was full of hope once again. I knew he had to return to his full power before he could possibly envision a break out of Azkaban. Do you remember when we took you to Diagon Alley to buy your school books, when you waited with Quirrell in the Leaky Cauldron while I went to the bank?"

I remembered sitting with Quirrell and watching Hagrid bring Harry Potter into the room. I hadn't known why everyone stopped talking and Quirrell refused to shake his hand. I do now. Ugh, Saint Potter was worshipped from the age of eleven, no wonder his ego was the size it was today. I felt a stab of guilt upon thinking this and I wondered if there was something wrong with me. Just because I now had intimate details of his parent's deaths did not mean I should be nice to him. Did it? I nodded at my mother, urging her to continue.

"I went to a few shops and then to Gringotts. I saw Hagrid and the Potter boy in there. He looked like a child version of James and it tore at me. They went to two vaults: the Potter's and 713. I saw Hagrid leave, slipping a tiny package into his pocket. He told Harry that it was Hogwarts business and for him not to mention it to anyone. I had my suspicions then and I told the Dark Lord about it. He gave me instructions to break into that vault, as I had heard the number. I was terrified, but my Lord guided me through it. He possessed me, you see. I allowed him, knowing that I would never get out alive. The vault had been empty. Whatever package Hagrid had taken out, it was the only thing in it, and it was a high security vault, too. It was the Philospher's Stone and the Dark Lord was determined to get it."

"Why are you telling me all this? Is it allowed?" I asked, swallowing thickly.

"Because I want you to understand me. I married Conrad Selwyn days before Potter killed Quirrell, out of convenience. I needed a cover. Dumbledore had been searching for me. I was devastated when Potter killed Quirrell. He was going to break Sirius out of Azkaban. I gave the diary of Tom Riddle to Lucius in your second year, for him to sneak into Hogwarts. I didn't want you to be near it, such a powerful and dark artefact. I gave birth to Miriam-Rose at the end of your second year. Conrad was murdered over the holidays and I wasn't particularly upset over it, except for the fact that he was Miriam-Rose's father.

"And in then Sirius escaped. He got out. I was... I can't explain how happy I was. I told you, but I regretted it. I should have spoken to him first. He still had no idea you existed, you see. I left your sister with Narcissa and went to find him, thinking that you might run across him and surprise him. It would have hurt you if he didn't believe you when you told him you're his daughter. I didn't. He hid himself well. And then he got caught at Hogwarts. I convinced myself he must have known who you were, why else would he be there?

"I hurried to Hogwarts on the night of the full moon. I saw Remus, dragging a Weasley out of the Shrieking shack and Sirius... I saw him helping the Potter boy. I was so happy. He was safe. He was okay. And then Remus transformed and the Dementors came and it was such a mess. I couldn't find him anywhere. I ran through the forest, searching desperately. I could hear howling and growling and screams. I was terrified and hoped that you were safe in Gryffindor Tower. Snape captured Sirius and I could do nothing but watch, having dropped my wand amongst the trees. I saw Pettigrew transform and I grabbed that damned rat so tightly that he still looks at me in fear today. Sirius escaped, Potter helped him, and he left on the back of a Hippogriff. I took Peter and went straight to Albania, where the Dark Lord had told me to wait for him. I left Miriam-Rose with the Malfoys; she was safe there.

"The Dark Lord, I and Barty Crouch Junior planned for his renewal, at the Triwizard Tournament. I found a potion, a terrible potion that would restore his body and we set the plan in action. Lord Voldemort would return.

"Dumbledore contacted me; we were living in the old Riddle House, in Little Hangleton. He gave me clues as to Sirius' whereabouts. I didn't tell anyone. I went to see him; he was living in a cave in Hogsmeade. Potter and his sidekicks were just leaving."

My fists clenched. Of course Potter got to see my father. Potter was all-important. Potter got whatever he wanted. Did this mean that Black had known about me? He knew? My mother paused as the waiter placed a bowl of soup in front of each of us.

"He knew. I told him everything I've just told you," at this, her olive eyes filled with tears. "He was horrified, furious at the things I had done. I hadn't expected him to love me, I hadn't expected forgiveness. But it hurt more than I care to admit. He wanted to see you. I wasn't sure. I told him all about you, how much you looked like him, how you glared when you were angry, and the way you laughed. I dunno, he was happy. I didn't want him to meet you, I decided. I told him you didn't want to see him."

"What?!" I exclaimed, my voice rising to a shout. My soup quivered as my fist came down on the table; the other diners stared at me. My mother begged me to calm down, trying to divert the attention. "How could you do that without telling me?" I whispered, my voice cracking.

Callista's olive eyes filled with tears. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I regret it more than anything. I just... I just thought that he'd take you away from me, that you would love him more than me..."

I was breathing deeply, trying not to shove my fist through a wall, or worse, her currently-not-so-pretty face.

"There's more. I - I changed my mind a few weeks later. I figured that you should have the choice. I organised to come to Hogwarts and take you to him but... Snape told the Dark Lord. He forbade me, thinking you were some kind of deadly weapon. He thought that you would tell Sirius everything. I knew you wouldn't, I tried to tell him that, he didn't listen. You frighten him, Violent. He's afraid of how much you know."

She reached forward to grab my hand which was wrapped murderously around my fish fork. Oh, the things I could do with a fish fork. I wonder what the other customers would think if I stuck my mother with this instrument of death... hmmm. I didn't shake her off as her hand wrapped around mine. It felt surprisingly... comforting.

"I agreed not to take you to him on one condition," she continued. "That Sirius wouldn't be killed or harmed in any way and that you could meet him when you were good and ready and had taken oaths not to reveal Lord Voldemort's secrets to him. The Dark Lord agreed to this condition.

"I was happy, knowing that you would get to meet him, happy that he would live and be able to love you. And then, Bellatrix k-killed him."

I hissed in a breath, even though I already knew this.

"I cursed her. I had never used an Unforgiveable before. The Dark Lord was equally furious. They had all promised to leave Black unharmed, to only use defensive spells. Let me be the first to tell you that Bellatrix was punished."

I slowly pulled my hand from hers and ran it through my hair. I felt sick. Sick to my stomach. I could feel the bile rising in my throat, waging war on my oesophageal tract. I took a drink of water.

"Violent, I'm sorry for what I've done to you. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

In all honesty, this was the longest and most heartfelt conversation I'd ever had with my mother. Her verbal skills in my life had only extended to brief instructions and warnings. Not this. Never this. I took a shaky breath and stood up.

"I have to go," I choked out.

Callista stood, nodding her head sadly. "I'll write to you," she said, in that peaceful voice she possessed. "I'll see you at Christmas." She stepped around the table to envelope me in a hug. My arms hung limp. I tried to get them to wrap around her but the damned limbs disobeyed me. Instead I just ducked my head down to her shoulder, my tears coming freely. It felt weird to cry. My usually dry tear ducts were unused to all the gushing liquid. Callista kept murmuring to me, patting my back, running her fingers through my black hair. "He loved you," she whispered to me. "He loved you until the very end."

I nodded, rubbing my eyes, trying to get rid of the offending army of salt-water droplets. God, that was like, twice in three days that I had cried. I must be turning into Teagan, between boyfriends.

I pulled myself from her warm arms and strode quickly from _Aries_. I jogged down the main street, my hands once again in the grey pockets of my jumper and my head was covered by its hood. Walking wasn't fast enough; it gave me too much time to think. And I did not want to think. I was going straight to the nutty Madam Pomfrey and demanding slash forcibly taking a dreamless sleep potion.

I rounded a corner on the lane, and almost ran into Teagan's sister and her friend. Katie Bell was arguing with the girl beside her... Leanne, was it? I didn't wait to think what it was about, having seen Potter exit the Three Broomsticks with Mudblood and Weasel, and turned to duck past them. They didn't notice me. Thank Merlin. I did not want to get banned from going to Hogsmeade for something as trivial as punching Potter's oversized and disproportioned face in.

I spun wildly as I heard an ear-splitting scream, only to see Katie rise into the air, arms flailing uselessly. She was six feet above the ground and her eyes were rolling about in her head. Whatever she was feeling, it was causing her almost cruciatus-like agony. I rushed up to where Potter & Co, as well as Leanne, were standing. Leanne was screaming and trying to tug her friend back down by her ankle. I watched as Katie came crashing down to earth, quite literally, and landed on Weasley and her friend. I darted around them and bent by her head, feeling for a pulse. There was a faint throb in her neck. I looked up. I told Potter to go get help. He ran off and came back moments later with the Oaf, Hagrid. If the situation hadn't been so serious and it wasn't Teagan's sister I would have rolled my eyes. But I didn't.

The giant/man lifted Katie into his arms and began to jog back up to the castle. Ahh. So the oaf was useful after all. Granger and I went to each side of Leanne. I almost stuck my tongue out at the brat when Leanne placed her hand on _my_ shoulder. But I didn't.

Weasel and the Boy Who Should Have Died But Rudely Didn't were bent over the ground. They were muttering something like 'Don't touch it!' but I couldn't catch the direct words. Beaver was questioning Leanne.

But I wasn't listening. I was staring at the entrance to the Three Broomsticks, where a tall boy with platinum blonde hair had just stepped out. He was watching with a mixture of determination and fear. Draco caught my eye and I raised an eyebrow. He shrugged and walked the other way, but I saw the tense posture in which he carried himself and the way he kept twitching his head around, as if he was looking to see if anyone was following him.

_Guilty._

Potter and Weasley came over to me. Potter had his ugly, calloused hands around a brown package, in it sat an ornate opal necklace. I stared at it and I noticed the miniscule pattern that was carved into the silver that framed the gem. They were snakes, closing around tiny little hearts. They were miniature replicas of the pendant I wore. Creepy. My hand flew to my neck and the piece of jewellery that was hung there. I had forgotten to ask my mother about the necklace she had sent me.

Neither of the boys noticed my reaction to the necklace, the stupid gits, but I was grateful for their ignorance. I followed them up to the castle, knowing I'd also have to report what I saw to Professor McGonagall.

We met our stern head of house on the stone steps. It had started to rain as well. McGonagall questioned us all on what we had seen and sent the necklace with the strange markings away to Snape. I looked up when she said this. Maybe Snape would let me look at it; maybe he would help me figure out why it was similar to my necklace.

At some point Leanne was so overcome by trauma that McGonagall sent me to take her to the hospital wing. I took all my strength not to sigh in relief. I grasped the blonde girl by the elbow and led her outside and up to the hospital wing. She was hyperventilating the whole way.

I told Madam Pomfrey exactly what was wrong and helped the delicate old lady lie Leanne down on an empty bed. The girl continued gasping for air, demanding to see Katie in between vicious intakes of breath. I wanted to see Teagan.

The nurse summoned a bottle and measuring cup from the shelf and poured out some purple liquid for Leanne to drink. She told me it was a calming potion. She also told me quietly that Katie's parents had been to the school and that Dumbledore had been called back from an important meeting. Katie was going to St Mungo's tomorrow, to be properly treated. The curse must have been pretty damned bad if the Professors could not help her.

I forgot to steal a dreamless sleep potion, even though I had the perfect opportunity, I realised, as I walked back up to Gryffindor Tower. Damn it. I hurried past the Golden Trio as they sat in front of the fire, quietly discussing the frightening chain of events. I ran up the stairs to the Girls Sixth.

The dormitory was empty except for Teagan. She was sobbing as she tossed her clothes into her trunk. I walked over to her slowly. Crying girls were not a speciality of mine. But seeing as I had cried today, I felt I was wrong to pass judgement. I silently put my hand on her shoulder, sensing that - for once - words weren't what she wanted.

Teagan turned and flung herself into my arms, my best friend crying onto my shoulder. She kept muttering 'my sister, my sister...' I didn't know what to say, so I didn't say anything. I just rubbed soothing circles into her back and made plans to have a little chat with Malfoy tomorrow. Oh, and Snape too.

Seriously, the heir to the Malfoy prestige _had_ to know cleaner ways to murder someone. This was just... messy. Katie definitely hadn't been the target, just a pawn to transport it to the castle.

I helped Teagan pack her things - she was leaving with her parents early tomorrow morning - and settled her into her bed. She eventually tired herself out and fell asleep. I then pulled on my own pyjamas and sat on my bed, pulling the hangings shut. Parvati and Lavender came up soon after, closely followed by Hermione.

I tried not to think of the conversation I had had with my mother. I tried not to think of Katie Bell suspended and screaming in the air and I tried not to think of Draco Malfoy as a cold-blooded murderer. And only one thought managed to successfully banish all the others:

_My father loved me until the very end._

**AN: Guys! Look, check it out! That's another chapter! And despite posting the last one during my exams, I actually received very good marks! Hooray! And I'm on school holidays now so I should be able to update much more frequently.  
I finished outlining this story this morning and guess what? If it works out and I'm happy with it... there may be a sequel. I know! Exciting!  
In case you were interested the song for this chapter is 'Dear Father' by Sum 41. **

**Okay.... Now, REVIEW. It is your DUTY!!**

**xox xox**


	5. Chapter 4

**Violent Deception**

**Chapter Four**

Right. So these past few days I have come to a not-so-shocking conclusion: I'm a loner. With very few friends. And a bad attitude. And a terribly pessimistic outlook on life. And I possibly have a few mental health issues that really should be dealt with. I blame it on my upbringing. Because really, when you admit it's your own fault that you only have _one_ friend, you just feel stupid.

Teag was with her family; Katie being in St Mungo's indefinitely. Personally, I didn't think she'd be allowed to come back to Hogwarts after this. I had never consciously acknowledged that I had no friends outside of Teagan. That's not to say I didn't have friends, just that none of them were Gryffindors. And to be honest, if I were to sit down at the Slytherin table, I have a feeling I _may_ be murdered. Just a hunch, though.

But really, I didn't care that I was alone at breakfast this morning. I was company enough for myself. The only thing that bothered me with being alone was that I might think too much on what had happened yesterday. But I couldn't help it, my thoughts automatically flying to mother, to Katie, the necklace, Draco, as I chewed my toast.

I glanced up at the staff table, my eyes trailing lazily from McGonagall to Slughorn and finally to rest on Albus Dumbledore. I nearly fell off my seat when I realised he was already staring intensely at me, his piercing blue orbs locked on my own grey ones. I felt a brief stab of anxiety; perhaps he had had someone follow me to _Aries_ yesterday? Oh Merlin my life is in shambles.

Well back to the old standby: intimidation-slash-frightening sadism. I smiled slowly at him and lift my knife to animatedly saw through my remaining piece of toast. When Potter and his band of merry men (and yes, I include Granger among the men - I mean, it's not like she didn't fit in visually) sat down a few seats away, I smiled wider and stabbed my (unusually sharp) bread knife into the wood of the table and stood up. No one noticed me leave the Great Hall except for the man in the centre of staff table, twirling his beard in thought.

Once I escaped the old man's frighteningly penetrating gaze, I leaned against the wall beside the giant doors that housed the exit of the Great Hall. I really did not want to do this... I really hope that boy drowns in his cereal...

But, alas, my fate was to die of The Glare of Malfoy. It's an incurable illness. Have you heard of it? Chances are, you've probably received a dozen or so in your lifetime - Draco hands them out faster than Potter can say 'I'm a hero'.

The blonde boy stepped out of the Hall barely five minutes later, flanked by his usual sidekicks, Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle. I didn't mind Goyle, actually, he was easy enough to boss about and big enough to be intimidating to most onlookers. Crabbe, on the other hand, is a right downer. I wondered why the school didn't hire a wet-nurse when Crabbe started here. The boy's sixteen and he still needs help putting on his uniform.

I peeled myself off the wall and placed myself in front of the stairs that led down to the dungeons a.k.a the Slytherin Haunt. "Malfoy. A word?"

Draco looked ready to bolt. He knew as well as I did that this was about Katie. Goyle seemed to cotton on and stepped forward to push me aside. Crabbe just looked... like Crabbe - too confused to comprehend the situation.

"Is it really necessary, Violent?" he asked, a sneer forming on his features. His ice-blue eyes darted about to see who was in hearing distance. I knew his expression was insincere. I mean, honestly, what would people think? The Gryffindor Bitch chillin' with the Slytherin Sex God. Not that I knew he was one from experience, oh Merlin, no. Let's just say that being best friends with Teagan Bell and sharing a dorm with Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil, you hear things. "You see, I have this absolutely delicious Ravenclaw girl waiting for me in -"

"Cut the crap, Malfoy," I interrupted him. "We're going to talk, and we're going to talk _now_. Dumb and Dumber" - I gestured to Goyle and Crabbe, respectively - "can stay if they want. But I have a sneaking suspicion that you don't want them to hear what I'm gonna say. Yeah?"

He sighed, the sneer still firmly in place. He motioned for Retard #1 and Retard #2 to go on ahead of him. I turned to my left and stalked quickly out the oak doors that lead to the grounds. Malfoy followed me. I walked him down to the edge of the forest, on the far side of the Quidditch pitch before I said a word.

"Alright. I'm going to blunt. Who _were_ you trying to kill?"

He stared at me, his eyebrows high with surprise. He had thought I was just going to question him. Oh no, little Malfoy, I already know it was you.

"None of your fucking business, Violent. Piss off."

"On the contrary, Malfoy, it _is_ my business. Tell me, what does Snape think about this?" I almost laughed at his expression.

"Nothing. He just wants the glory for himself."

"Oh, I'm sure. I would know if Snape was glory-digging. I think he would wash his hair. Now, I already know it was you, I know that the cursed necklace was not meant for Katie and I know that the Dark Lord has asked you to do something... unpleasant. So let's be honest, shall we? Who _were_ you trying to murder?" Somehow, I sensed that my tone was much too accusatory. I softened it. "I can help you, Draco. You don't have to go through this by yourself."

He glared at me furiously. "You don't know shit!"

Ooh. And now I was angry. Bad move, Malfoy. "Drakey, _sweetie_, how's your father? Still kicking?"

He stiffened and his face went pale, well, pal_er_.

"Because, uh, I'm guessing that if you screw up, his life is - how shall I put it? Over," I said, leaning against the nearest tree. His rigid form seemed to shake at my words. "Okay, look. I help you, you help me, no questions asked. Deal?"

He frowned, thinking on my words. "What do you need help with? You haven't been asked to -"

I laughed bitterly. "No, I haven't been asked to murder anyone just yet, Draco. I'm doing a little research on my own. And an added bonus of merging sides would be that it would piss off Potter."

A fine blonde eyebrow shot up, definitely in interest. I knew there was a reason I liked Slytherins - they hated Harry Pooper almost as much as I did. "Why would it piss off Potter?"

I grinned. "Well, he hates our guts, yeah? So of we suddenly start talking and getting friendly he's going to assume we're planning to get him or something. It's a disease he has - I'mharrypotterandthewholeworldrevolvesaroundme-itis. It's incurable, poor guy."

Draco snorted. "Alright. We have a deal. As long as it stays between us. No one else can know."

I held out my hand. "Do I have to spit in it to make it official?"

He smiled tightly. "Nah. I don't know where your mouths been, Faithe." He grasped my palm tightly and jerked it. Bloody hell, Lucius must give lessons: Firm Masculine Handshake 101.

At this I laughed. "Don't worry about that one, Malfoy." I stepped away from the tree, moving a little closer to him. "So, let's get this sorted, shall we? Who were you aiming for?"

He swallowed thickly, as if his saliva was like... a gobstone or something. "Uh, you first."

I shrugged and lifted my arm to yank on the chain around my neck. I unclasped it and held it out to him. "Recognise this?"

He lifted the pendant up to the light, shifting out of the shadows that were cast by the enormous trees on the fringe of the forest. "It looks familiar. It's very... Slytherin. Where'd you get it?"

"My mother sent it to me. She didn't mention anything about it."

He looked up at me, disbelief clouding his pointed features. "Are you fucking retarded, Violent? Your _mother_ sent it to you and you _put it on_? You do realise just who your mum hangs out with, don't you?"

I shrugged again. "I really am hoping my mother isn't out to kill me. That would make my life just that little bit more complicated, huh? Look at the pendant. Do you notice the similarities to the item you had delivered today?"

"What, _other_ than the fact that it's a creepy necklace?"

I shook my head. "I had a look at the pendant on the cursed one - the pattern around the opal is like, a bunch of miniature versions of this as a border. Odd, don't you think?"

"I don't know," he said, frowning. "But it feels... angry."

I just looked at him. "What d'you mean?"

Draco looked confused. "I don't know," he repeated. "It just... doesn't like me."

I burst out laughing. My _necklace_ doesn't _like_ him. Oh, Merlin, this was a classic. And so I, naturally, took the approach that was almost reflexive to me -sarcasm. "Well, I could introduce you to my earrings if you like; they're very pleasant... the green set has a simply _lovely_ personality. Or my bangle, well, she's a bit of a party girl but -"

Draco groaned, holding up his hand to stop me. "Enough. Forget I said it."

I smiled, Cheshire cat style. "Sure. So the problem with it is - I mean, other than the fact that it doesn't like you -that, one: my mother sent it and two: it had some serious similarities with the cursed necklace you almost killed Katie Bell with."

He scowled at me, his slate eyes flashing. Really, just because my jewellery doesn't go for blondes, there's no reason to act all frumpy. "And what do you want me to do?"

"Not much. Just help me figure out what's the deal with the necklace. And I want you to help me twist Potter's knickers."

He nodded. "And I need your help as well."

I cocked an eyebrow. Gosh, I seem to be doing a lot of that lately. Was I just more confused than normal or was there a sickness going around? Merlin knows, Hogwarts is a small place. Everyone sharing dormitories, food, bathrooms... _Ewww_. Gross. I had never considered the sanitary arrangements of my school before.

"Keep those pesky Gryffindors - no offense - off my back."

"And you never actually told me who you're trying to murder!" Damn. Now that question is just getting plain repetitive.

He smiled and I couldn't tell if it was obscured by a hint of sadness or sly Slytheriny-ness. "Albus Dumbledore," he said calmly, before turning away and disappearing up the path that led to the castle. I stayed where I was, huddled beneath the shadows of the trees, mouth agape in shock.

_Albus Dumbledore_. Draco Malfoy is being forced to murder Albus Dumbledore. Merlin's fuckbuddy, this was insane. How could the Dark Lord possibly think that _Malfoy_, a boy of sixteen, could kill the batty man who had been heralded as the century's most proficient wizard? It was madness!

_He's been asked to do something horrible, so tainted it could split his young soul... he will not accept any help from me. Especially me._

I suppose it would be weird, Dumbledore helping Malfoy to murder Dumbledore. It just didn't have ring to it - Wait a minute! Why the bloody hell am I thinking this way? This was the assassination of _Dumbledore_ that we're talking about, here! Oh my God, I am just like my mother after all...

I took a shaky breath after than horrifying revelation and took off at a brisk run back up to the majestic castle. I stopped once I reached the front doors. Who was I meant to confide in? My only friend was with her near-dead sister in St Mungo's. And I obviously wasn't going to go running off to St Potter and his minions of happiness now, was I? Shit, and I could hardly go to Dumbledore. Ugh. What a mess. I considered going to see Theo, a seventh year Slytherin I knew rather well, but figured that word might get back to his father. Mr Nott was a well known groveller and would use any information he had to be welcomed into the Dark Lord's inner circle. No.

I walked to the owlery, taking my time and composing the letter in my head. Of course I was owling Rodolphus. The man was my most trusted confidante when it came to creepy things like this. And he wouldn't tell anyone, not even the Dark Lord. Because he was already in the inner circle and would already know the plan, therefore I wouldn't be jeopardising it. He wouldn't be in deep shit for spilling secrets since I already knew and _technically_ because I was a Death Eater just like him, a member of the Inner Circle myself. I subconsciously itched my left forearm. It was a constant reminder of how royally fucked my life was. As if I needed a skull tattoo telling my just how deep I'd dug my grave. Not that I'd dug it by myself. A round of applause, if you will, for my I-eat-bullshit-for-breakfast mother.

The owlery was like the Hell-of-the-West Tower. Seriously. Fucking freezing, owl shit covering every surface and damnable birds hooting and glaring at you with their freaky eyes. Did I mention it was fucking cold up there, what with no glass in the windows? I did? Oh, I thought it earned being said twice because it was so bitingly chilly.

I dug around in my pockets for a piece of paper and found my crumpled up Astronomy essay. I shrugged and unfolded it, picking up the quill that was tied to the shit-covered desk in the corner of the owlery. I dipped it in the ink pot and began to scratch out my letter to Rodolphus. I did say I liked the guy, didn't I? If I had to compare him to a man any of you could relate to, it would be George Clooney. I know right, 'How does this muggle-hater know about George Clooney?' But my best friend's name is Teagan Bell (half-blood), people. No further explanation necessary. Right, so I think that Rodolphus is the wizard version of good ol' George. Without as many grey hairs. He's smart, pretty sexy lookin' for an old guy (eww, not that I'm attracted to him or anything - he's like my uncle), and he has a contagious smile. And you just can't help but trust him.

What? Did you think that most Death Eaters either had gross teeth and acne or blood red eyes and facial features that largely resemble a snake? Nope. Not in this evil fairy land, my friends.

Right, so back to my letter. I was never particularly descriptive when I wrote to Rodolphus. He has this awesome 'no shit' attitude. I love it. Like, in a say what you mean, and mean what you say kinda way. And it doesn't take a freakin' hour to explain what's going on. Because he hates dawdling in any way, shape or form.

_Hey Roddy!_

I wrote, grinning at myself. He really dislikes the nickname, and I use it at any and every opportunity. Bella hates it too, making it even more addictive. When I'm not pissing off my fellow class mates (namely Potter and his entourage, plus his club of screaming, tit-shaking fan girls) I was pissing off Bellatrix Lestrange. Word of warning: approach said madwoman with caution, especially _after_ I've gotten under her skin.

_Hope you aren't missing having me around too much. Because I'm having loads of fun here; you know, classes, watching Quidditch matches, my best friend's sister being caught up and lethally injured in a little scheme of our, uh... special guy... You know - the usual..._

Yep. 'Special Guy' is our code word for 'evil-megalomaniac-intent-on-destroying-the-world-and-eradicating-all-traces-of-blood-filth'. I thought it was a rather endearing analogy. It's like calling a murderous, killer rabbit 'Bunny' or 'Bugs' or 'Binky' (as Lavender had called her stupid fluff ball - thank God the thing died in Third year). And in case you were too stupid to catch that insinuation right there, I was talking about the Dark Lord. But no one's dumb enough to miss that, right? Oh, except for Potter...

_Life's great. I've discovered a new passion for growing bonsai trees and that Draco Malfoy has a task that could quite literally blow the pants off the wizarding world, if you catch my drift. Would you mind telling me what the hell's with that? He's sixteen! He's not a frickin' assassin!_

_Yours in complete sincerity (because I'm always completely sincere, in every way),_

_Violent._

_xxx_

There. That's a fitting letter for my favourite Death Eater. Short, sweet and sarcastic. I folded it up a couple of times, the words of my essay covering the outside of the letter. Not that I cared about it, because, face it, just how many essays have I actually handed in this term, outside of Transfiguration? Put it this way, if you sectumsempra-ed off all my limbs, I'd still be able to count the number of homework responses I had submitted to be marked. Yeah. I'm such a rebel.

I tied the hastily scribbled letter to the leg of one of the school barn owls. The feathery beast looked reasonably sturdy - I expected it to survive getting past Bellatrix. She has a 'thing' against owls. Call me crazy, but when she jumps up, screams and murders the damn bird before it even has time to squeeze through the window, I get this feeling that she's afraid of them. Hopefully this one makes it out alive... if not, well, Rodolphus will just have to tug my note off the dead bird's leg, won't he?

I left the owlery, my mind considerably calmer. Knowing that Rodolphus would write me back with a very humorous and witty reply made my thoughts stop swirling around my skull like a maniacal whirlwind, hell-bent on destroying my brain, one gust of confusion at a time.

It wasn't even lunchtime yet. What the hell was I supposed to do all day? Do homework? I snorted to myself. Not bloody likely. Talk to Teagan? Sure if you have one of the muggle things, what d'ya call 'em? Oh, _walkie-talkies_. So I find myself in a little bit of pickle. Not that I like pickles. They taste funny. Anyways, I found myself sitting by the lake, twirling the necklace in my fingers and thinking to myself that if my existence got any more complicated I may as well throw myself into the murky depths of the water in front of me, and hope to Merlin that Potter has been miraculously cured of his annoying hero complex and doesn't dive in to fish me out. Take a breath - that was really long sentence. And really, you should replenish your oxygen supply - simply saying Potter's name was as good as taking a puff of a cigar. He's terrible for the lungs. Among other things.

~xox~

Finally, a success at dinner time! I always was a fan of the Gryffindor chivalry. Well, not really, but it had its moments. Like now. When I was sitting by myself staring daggers at Potter and stabbing my potatoes with a force that could quite possibly break the table. So, Dean and Seamus, nice blokes that they were, came and sat down next to me. Go me! I had (sort of) friends outside of Teag! I could have waved my hands in the air and done a little victory jig, but I figured that it would lose me the new-found (sort of) friends faster than I could say 'I'm a Death Eater'.

"Hey, Violent," said Dean sociably as he stacked his plate with pie.

I greeted him in the friendliest manner I could rustle up without sounded too plastic. He seemed genuinely shocked by my pleasantness. Oh, please, I wasn't _that_ horrible! Was I?...

I stuffed some food in my mouth to keep myself from saying anything stupid... or insulting, take your pick.

"So, Vi," began Seamus. Damn Callista to hell for naming my Violent. "Have you heard from Teagan? Is she coming back to school?"

I swallowed my food and took a couple of seconds as I ran my tongue over my teeth, making sure there were no traces of food before speaking. "I haven't spoken to her yet. I was going to write her a letter today, but I thought I'd wait a little, she's really stressed out." He nodded in understanding. "I don't know if she'll come back," I continued. "I mean, her parents might not let her. She'd want to, though."

"Yeah. I don't think I could stand being locked at home with me mam for the rest of the year," said Seamus. Dean laughed. Having never met Mrs Finnegan, I decided that a polite chuckle was in order. Seriously, I had this 'don't scare your new-found (sort of) friends away' thing down pat. Give the gal a trophy!

"We're safer here anyway," said Dean. "Do they know who did it yet?"

I wondered what the two boys would do if I told them that the culprit was in fact lounging at the Slytherin table, enjoying a piece of shepherd's pie, with a hand up Pansy Parkinson's skirt. I gulped. That reaction was not a desirable outcome. "Nah, they're still trying to figure it out. Not sure if it's the Death Eaters or not."

"I bet you my little brother that it is them, the slimy bastards," growled Seamus threateningly. Gee, the guy must like his brother.

"Well, boys, I'm off to do that bloody Defence essay. You know how Snape gets. I'll see you 'round, yeah?" I stood up, my empty plate vanishing.

The two boys nodded. "Yeah, see ya, Vi."

_ Grr._

I left the Great Hall with no hurry. Pfft. I wasn't _really_ going to do my essay. I'm pretty sure we discussed the statistics of my homework completion rate earlier. And I'd always been one for tradition.

~xox~

It's a funny thing, love. It gets in the way and clouds one's mind. Ridiculous. No, you ponces, of course I haven't gone and done something so stupid as to _fall in love_. Seriously, that's disgusting. Love's totally over-rated anyway - it's just a bunch of sappy eyes, snogging and declarations of commitment that mean absolutely nothing two weeks later. Nope. I'll _never_ fall in love. And you can hold me to that.

But it _is_ amusing to watch other people battle the beast of non-platonic infatuation. Take a rough, red headed brute like Ronald Weasley give him a dose of confidence (say... a Quidditch win) and put him in a commonroom with Lavender Brown. The result is a disgusting snog fest - totally searing the retinas of everybody else in room. Though most onlookers found the display mildly revolting, I found it fucking hilarious. Granger's face... priceless. She's in love with the red haired sidekick. _The Weasel and The Beaver_. As if that didn't sound like the children's book from hell.

Well, it looks like there's trouble in paradise. Granger's furious, Weasley's oblivious, Lavender is smitten and Potter is - as per usual - very confused. Just think of the havoc I could wreak upon Potter while his two loyal lapdogs are at each other's throats. Oh, the opportunity was just too good.

But it could wait. Seriously, my mind was much too overloaded to produce a coherent sentence let alone one of my fabulous Potter insults. And, without bragging or exaggerating, they were rather fabulous, if I may say so myself.

Right. So I had been invited to Slughorn's party. Apparently, he thought my mother was a most proficient witch, and held a very prominent position at the Ministry for a time. I wondered if he knew exactly what my mother was up to now. I found myself standing in front of Slughorn's office, wondering what the bloody hell I was meant to do there. I mean, it's not like I actually _liked_ socialising with people. I was very much a loner. I knocked on the door and Slughorn beckoned me in with a gusty welcome and a pat on the back.

I was swept into the crowded room and pushed into the throes of people. Most were couples, I hadn't known we were meant to bring anyone, but honestly, who would I have taken? Teagan was currently unavailable. And I wasn't exactly well known to the opposite sex. Well, not as an object of attraction anyway.

Thankfully, I have this natural defence mechanism: glare and scowl at people until they leave you the hell alone. And, I'm proud to say, it works pretty damn well.

Except for that stupid vampire, Sanguini, trying to feel me up. His nose shall never be the same. I managed to squirm my way out of the situation of physically assaulting the vampire guest by making an excuse and bolting for the food-laden table, Slughorn saying to my back "Oh, she's fiery, just like her mother!" Puh-lease. My mother was a) a coward and b) a pushover.

At that moment, Malfoy was dragged into the room by his ear. Filch told Slughorn that he'd been prowling about trying to get in. Draco admitted to gatecrashing. It was one of the funniest things I've seen all day. Until Snape hauled the blonde boy out of the packed room.

I saw Potter excuse himself and run to the bathroom. How odd. So, naturally, I did the first thing that came to me - I followed my childhood play-pal and my Potions professor out into the corridor. I, very sneakily, kept just out of sight.

I swear I kept hearing a rustling sound just in front of me, like a swishing cloak, and someone's unsteady breathing. My first thought jumped to 'invisibility cloak' but I abandoned the notion almost as soon as it came. It was probably just my imagination. As if anyone at Hogwarts had an _invisibility cloak_...

I listened intently to their conversation. Hey, no one said I was an angel. Eavesdropping on things I was most definitely not meant to hear was a favourite past time of mine - outside of verbally abusing Potter.

" . . . cannot afford mistakes, Draco, because if you are expelled -"

"I didn't have anything to do with it, all right?"

"I hope you are telling the truth, because it was both clumsy and foolish. Already you are suspected of having a hand in it."

"Who suspects me?" said Malfoy angrily. "For the last time, I didn't do it, okay? That Bell girl must've had an enemy no one knows about - don't look at me like that! I know what you're doing, I'm not stupid, but it won't work - I can stop you!"

There was a pause and then Snape said quietly, "Ah . . . Aunt Bellatrix has been teaching you Occlumency, I see. What thoughts are you trying to conceal from your master, Draco?"

"I'm not trying to conceal anything from him, I just don't want you butting in!"

I listened in stunned silence as the conversation continued. I felt sorry for Draco. Obviously Snape was trying to fulfil Dumbledore's request to full potential. I had no intention whatsoever of informing the meddling Headmaster of Draco's plans and movements. I was going to be friendly and supportive, because that's all I had agreed to.

"Listen to me," said Snape, his voice so low now that I had to strain against the wall I had pushed up against to hear. "I am trying to help you. I swore to your mother I would protect you. I made the Unbreakable Vow, Draco -"

"Looks like you'll have to break it, then, because I don't need your protection! It's my job, he gave it to me and I'm doing it, I've got a plan and it's going to work, it's just taking a bit longer than I thought it would!"

Oh yeah! Go Drakie! You tell that slimy git! I gasped as I realised that the conversation had ended and that Malfoy was quickly moving in my direction. I bolted around the corner, not giving a shit if they heard. I don't care if Malfoy knew I had listened in, but Snape would eat me for breakfast.

I threw myself around the wall, already out of breath. I stopped. Maybe if I stayed stock-still, you know, go camouflage, they'd walk right past. Alright, so I'm an unfit idiot who can't catch my breath, so what? Snape never came past, evidently having gone back to his rooms in the other direction. I breathed a heavy sigh of relief.

The next minute, I was pressed up against the wall with long fingers wrapped around my throat. _What a way to get a girl's attention_, I thought, whilst gasping for air.

"Shit, Violent," hissed Draco. "You nearly gave me a coronary." He released me and I slid down the fall, having been held at least a foot from the ground. Man, he was strong. All that Death Eater training must be paying off. I had very successfully managed to worm my way out of the physical area of the training. Very cunning of me, I thought.

"Sorry. I saw Snape drag you off and I figured he was going to nail you to one of the portraits or something..."

"Well, thanks for the concern, but I'm fine." He stormed off.

I poked myself in the side, where I had developed a stitch. No idea why. I'd only run a couple of meters. Perhaps it was the adrenaline. Yeah. I think I'll blame my lack of fitness on adrenaline. Not that made sense in any way, but... who cares?

I ran - well, more like jogged briskly - after him. Hey! I was supposed to be supportive friend wasn't I? I was meant to comfort him. And the boy needed some serious TLC right now. He looked ready to commit a murder. Ooh. Bad taste, Violent, bad taste. And I was always ready to lend a little TLC. _Not_. What does that even _mean_? Totally Lacking Control? Terrified of Long-lasting Cruciatus? _Tadpole Life Cycle_? Merlin, I'm useless.

"Draco, wait up!" I called as I followed him, wondering just how much of a fool I was going to make of myself. Warning to all: do not comfort a Malfoy whilst said wizard is in a murderous rage. It just isn't good for your general well-being.

**AN: Hey guys!!! Look at it! Another chapter! Gah! (that's my favourite word right now, so excuse me if I say it rather regularly)  
****  
So, Violent is not a nice person. In fact she's very self-centred and hates everyone but the select few she has chosen to trust. Is her arrogance going to be blessing or a curse? well, I suppose I could tell you all about it right now... but I won't, 'cause it will ruin the story. At this stage there IS going to be a sequel. Yes! I know - how exciting. It will probably detail Violent's Seventh year, and all the crazy stuff she does. **

**So you should all be clicking that little button down there that says 'click to leave a review' or something... Because I would really appreciate feedback! **

**xox**


	6. Chapter 5

**Violent Deception**

**Chapter Five**

The conversation went well, actually. I mean, I came out of it alive with minimal scarring. No, I'm exaggerating. He didn't hit me, per se. It was more like a verbal abuse. As a matter of fact, I found the colourful and highly descriptive language extremely refreshing. Because, really, Malfoy and I are the only people in the entire school capable of thinking up such explicit and vulgar insults.

But, we eventually came to an agreement. Not that I'm exactly sure what it is. Over the Christmas break, I am going to help him figure out how exactly he can go about killing Albus Dumbledore. I may be acting like it's not a big deal (especially to Draco) but I had always been a master of my emotions. Inside I felt like one of those muggle atomic bombs - ready to explode and completely wipe everything in the nearby area out. I was afraid, not that I would admit to anyone. I was afraid that soon, I was going to be called upon.

Draco had only been Marked over the summer holidays and he already had a major assignment. I had the inky skull tattooed into my skin at the age of seven and I had not been told to do anything but remain silent about my past. And that could change at any moment. I had always thought that my age protected me - that I was only a kid so I couldn't possibly be working for the Dark Lord. Draco's mission had brought that fantasy crashing down upon my shoulders. My tender age could not serve as a shield for me anymore.

Draco agreed that we could meet up over the Christmas break, which officially started tomorrow. I was currently packing some clothes, having made arrangements to spend the two weeks with Rodolphus. I was looking forward to it, despite my newfound fear. Rodolphus would help me with anything I needed, and somehow, I don't think that the Dark Lord would ask me to kill anyone. I hope...

**~xox~**

The train left early the next morning, with me on it. I sat in a compartment by myself. With a jolt of shame, I realised that I had not tried to contact Teagan. Merlin, I was a terrible best friend. I would totally understand if she ignored the hurried and not thought out letter I scribbled on the train. But I hoped she didn't.

I sighed and leaned back into the not-so-comfy cushioned seat. I was going home with Narcissa and Draco and from there would floo directly to the Lestrange's. It's not like Rodolphus could pick me up from the station. He'd be killed by the aurors the moment he stepped onto the platform.

Draco did not embrace his mother when he stepped off the train. He simply took his place beside her. She looked at him coldly, dispassionately, but I saw the flicker of emotion behind her icy blue eyes that were so like her son's. I walked a couple of meters behind them as we left the station, for obvious reasons. No one at Hogwarts, save Snape and perhaps Dumbledore, knew of my acquaintance with the Malfoy family.

Narcissa stopped suddenly, in the middle of the pulsing people. Her lip was curled in distaste at the proximity of the muggles, but she didn't say anything. I hurried towards them, as we had practised many times, and she grabbed my arm at the same time clasping Draco's hand. She stepped forward with an air of ease and practise, into nothingness, Draco and I pulled behind her. I personally hated apparation, the feeling of having your stomach slowly stretched and pounded from all sides.

Seconds later, we were standing at the gates of Malfoy Manor. The enormous wrought iron gates were looming, ominous. There was a large M inscribed in the centre in a freaky gothic script. Narcissa turned to me; she smiled tightly and released my arm.

"Violent, how are you?" she asked. Her voice was shaky. Like Draco, her face was tinged with grey and she had dark shadows under her eyes.

"I'm okay. How are things here?" the smile fell from her face. She sighed but did not answer. Draco shot me The Glare. My stomach twisted and I almost felt like I had apparated by accident. She led us up to the enormous house. The three floors were held up by enormous columns, each as thick as the oaf, Hagrid.

I did not see Lucius at all for the hour I was there. And I was sort of glad. I knew the Dark Lord had already punished him for his failure last year - I had seen the cursed scars myself. But Azkaban did horrible things to a person. Literally living with fear and your darkest memories. And I guessed that Lucius would have many of those.

Narcissa had an elf serve refreshments and she chattered to us about school and the plans for Christmas. Bellatrix, Rodolphus, Rabastan, my mother and myself had been invited to the Malfoy's for dinner. We did this most years, alternating between houses. I wasn't allowed to the Selwyn's. Conrad - my mother's deceased husband - had cursed me so that I could never set foot in the house. No idea why. It couldn't have been because I blew up his lavatory while he was uh... on it. And since that day in the holidays before my second year, I had always gone to stay with either Malfoy or Rodolphus.

I thanked Narcissa for having me and shot a glance at Draco. He nodded - we'd talk at Christmas. I picked up my trunk and walked over to the fireplace, grabbing a handful of green powder as I did so.

"The Lestrange Mansion!" I shouted and was immediately enveloped by green flames. They licked my legs and I was instantly standing in different fireplace, the green fire burning down to embers. I step out, dragging my trunk with me.

"Violent!" I hear somebody shout and I turn to see Rodolphus stride into the room. He walked straight up to me and wrapped me in a spine cracking hug.

I laughed. "Hey!"

He let me go and stood back, picking up my trunk. I looked around. The mansion had not changed a bit. The walls were still a boring grey brick, the floors made of polished cherry wood. There were lamps everywhere, giving the foyer a flickering sort of luminescence. Rodolphus had changed though. What was it with Death Eaters and blue shadows under their eyes? The only conclusion I could draw is that the Dark Lord must be working his followers pretty hard. His goatee was still reddish-brown and well trimmed and his eyes were a chocolate brown. I had never seen Rodolphus look so tired.

"Merlin," I said. "You look like you haven't slept in a month!"

He laughed and led me to the library where he sat down at the cherry wood desk. "Yeah. Feels that way, too. Been busy, you know. How's school going?"

I grinned. "Good, good. I was made President of the I-Hate-Harry-Potter campaign. And I delivered an excellent speech about my views on the topic."

He chuckled. "Just like every other day then..." He broke off and lifted his head. "Oi, Rab!" he called into the far expanse of the library. "Violent's here!"

I looked around. The Lestrange library took up half the mansion. It was two stories tall and contained practically any book on the Dark Arts you could possibly want. And I had spent nearly every holiday since first year here. There was a shuffling sound, like a rodent or something and a stooped figure stepped forward. He looked, basically, like Rodolphus without having been bestowed with the blessing of decent looks. Poor guy. He reminded me of Quasimodo, from that muggle book, _The Hunchback of Notre Dame_.

Rab Lestrange was a pretty okay guy in my opinion. Before he went to Azkaban, he had had his tongue cut out by an auror for insulting said auror's mother. And grandmother. And sister as well. Yep. That's wizard justice for ya. But he managed to communicate all right. He gestured to me a 'hello, how are you symbol' by rapidly waving his hands.

I grinned and told him I was fine. He grunted and shuffled back to disappear in the cavernous library. Rabastan was the Dark Lord's secretary, pretty much. He did all the research and equipped the Death Eaters with all their dark curses.

I turned back to Rodolphus, who had conjured me a seat. "So... How'd you find out about young Mr Malfoy? Did he tell you?"

I sat down, I had a grin plastered on my face, but inside I was reeling. What should I say? _Uh... I joined forces with Dumbledore..._ "I guessed."

Rodolphus' auburn eyebrow shot up. "You guessed?"

"Yeah. Well, Draco looked really sick and his father was being held in Azkaban even though I know he can easily break out and he kept hiding. So I figured that he'd been asked to do something pretty big and his parent's lives were being used as leverage. I just assumed that it was Dumbledore."

"Why would you assume that?"

I shrugged. "Well the only people the Dark Lord desperately wants dead at Hogwarts are Dumbledore and Harry Potter. And I thought that he would want to kill Potter himself."

Rodolphus smiled. "Well reasoned. Bella's not coming home tonight. What do you want for tea?"

Relief. I hated Bellatrix Lestrange. "Er, how about casserole?"

"Nice choice. I'll set an elf on it. I have to duck out for an hour. You'll be okay here with just Rab?"

"Of course. I'll go put my things in my room."

We said goodbye and he disapparated directly from the library. I sighed and gave my trunk to an elf to take up to my bedroom. I followed at a much slower pace. I loved the old mansion. It definitely wasn't as gothic looking as the Malfoy's but it was still very elegant.

**~xox~**

The week leading up to Christmas was interesting, to say the least. I felt as though the days were spinning out of control, and I was just plucking random memorable moments from the air.

Oh, and Bellatrix slapped me. It was so worth it though - I bought her an owl for Christmas. She screamed and tossed the cage to her husband, who caught it, laughing at her. She then proceeded to chase me through her house, throwing hexes and jinxes every which way. I just laughed and ran faster.

So, here I stood before the mirror in bedroom on Christmas Eve, assessing myself. What? I'm a girl, aren't I? I'm perfectly allowed to have moments of vanity. My robes were a pale, smoky grey, setting off my eyes. The misty fabric hung off my shoulders and was form fitting until it reached my narrow hips, after which it became loose and flowing. Quite a nice dress. Now came the problem of shoes and accessories. I had ordered the dress from Madam Lolissa before I left Hogwarts and I had completely forgotten about everything else.

_At your panic stations everyone!_

I dug through my wardrobe, which was relatively full considering I had only spent a few summers and Christmases here. I pulled out pair after pair of shoes. Too ugly. Too stripy. Too high. Too grandma-looking. Finally, I narrowed it down to two pairs: navy blue ballet flats and a pair of simple black stilettos. I picked the blue flats - I hated wearing heels.

I slipped them on my feet and strode quickly over to the jewellery box that rested atop my dresser. I rummaged through it almost frantically. Nothing seemed suitable. In the end I gave up and just wore my snake-heart pendant. I had become rather attached to it, despite its obviously creepy nature. I wore it everywhere.

I went to bed that night a bundle of nerves. I tossed and I turned like a tigress scenting the coming hunt. And, really, that is exactly what it was. Christmas, for me, was a game of cat and mouse. Always had been. I was always good for a bit of light entertainment - especially now that they all knew who my father was. The secret had gotten out last year. I suspected Wormtail, but he vehemently denies it. Lucius and Bellatrix tried to sway me to the cause by telling me gruesome tales of torture and murder. My mother usually tried to play _'Happy Families: Christmas Edition_' with us and failed miserably. Narcissa commented on how I looked and subtly pointed out all my flaws and suggested spells that could hide them. Luckily, Lucius would not be here this year so I only had Bellatrix to push me into joining the Dark Lord.

It may surprise you, but not one of them - save for my mother and Rodolphus - knew that I was a Marked Death Eater. The Dark Lord wanted it to be kept hidden; I was his secret weapon. My mother and I had agreed on this when I was ten, just before I went off to Hogwarts. I had only requested that Rodolphus know in second year, when I was kicked out of the Selwyn house and needed a place to stay. They all knew that the Dark Lord had known me as a little girl, when my mother first approached him, that I had practically lived with him and assisted him after the First Fall. But that's it. I was expected to finish school and clamber to join with the likes of Crabbe and Goyle. Pfft. I was above clambering.

**~xox~**

"Merry Christmas," I said semi-warmly to Narcissa as she pulled me into a loose hug while returning the sentiments. I nodded my well wishes to Bellatrix, whom I wouldn't hug if my life depended on it. My mother had not yet arrived - thank Merlin. Callista and Christmas in a sentence equalled hell on earth, no joke.

Narcissa led Rodolphus, Bellatrix, Rab and I into the 'parlour'. Really it's just a fancy word for lounge.

"Narcissa," I called as she sat us down. "Where's Draco?"

She laughed. The sound was forced. "Oh, he's just upstairs getting ready. He'll be down in about half an hour. Merlin, the boy loves his mirror."

I did laugh at this. "I bet he does. I'll just pop up there quickly. I need to ask him something."

Narcissa looked at me oddly for a moment before smiling widely. Obviously she translated me asking a simple question to doing something we most certainly wouldn't be doing. Not that I'm a prude or anything. Draco is just... Draco, right?

I left the room in a flurry of smoke-coloured skirts. Seriously, they _billowed_. I walked hurriedly through the enormous and certainly very creepy manor, quickly rising up the stairs and down to the left wing where I knew Draco's quarters to be.

Just as I was about to knock, the door swung open. I grinned. "Merry Christmas, Drac-"

But it wasn't Draco. Pansy Parkinson stepped out right in front of me, her eyes on her chest as she buttoned up her skimpy Santa's-Little-Whore dress. She hadn't seen me. Oh. My. God. Had I come up five minutes earlier, I would have caught Draco Malfoy _doing the deed_.

Pansy's pug-like face resumed its regular axis and her eyes realised that I was blocking her exit.

"A very merry Christmas to you, Parkinson," I said warmly, breaking the silence. Merlin, I hated this girl.

Her eyes widened and then narrowed to slits. "What are you doing here, Gryffindor _bitch_?"

I laughed. "Oh, I think I may ask you the same question, Pansy... if I couldn't make a fairly accurate guess." Her face heated up and her sweaty, unkempt blonde hair seemed to twitch in annoyance. "I'm assuming Malfoy's still in there, yeah?"

"Why would I tell you, whore?"

I rolled my eyes. "Real original, Parkinson. One day, I'll give you list of half-decent insults, you sulphurous toad."

"Pansy! Who's there?" someone barked from within the chamber. I recognised the voice motioned for the dishevelled blonde girl before me to reply.

"The Gryffindor skank," she answered haughtily. "Violent Faithe."

Silence.

Hah. I bet he didn't like the idea of being caught with his pants around his ankles (I'm actually hoping he's managed to get them up by now, though) with none other than the Slytherin mattress, Pansy Parkinson.

"Merry Christmas, _Drakie_!" I called, my voice falsely sweet. I heard a low growl from within. Classic. It's a shame that I had absolutely no one to giggle about this with. I mean, I could hardly tell Teagan that I spent Christmas with the Malfoys, could I now?

Draco appeared in the doorway behind Pansy. His pointed face was set in a not-so-unusual scowl. And he did have his pants up, FYI. He was shirtless, though, I was unusually pleased to notice.

"Go home, Pansy," he said in a low voice. "I'll owl you later."

"Yeah," I cut in. "Bye, Pansy. Have a lovely holiday!"

She huffed at me - no kidding, she actually imitated a horse suffering a severe case of PMS - and turned to walk to the fireplace at the end of the corridor. She took a handful of green powder from the mantle and tossed it in, muttering something as she did so. A burst of emerald flame engulfed her and it took all of my cognitive control not to picture it melting her perfectly tanned skin. I failed miserably of course... it's just such a good visual for Christmastime.

I turned back to Draco and raised an eyebrow. He glowered and stepped aside, allowing me to enter his rooms.

"Honestly, Draco," I called over my shoulder as I made my way to the window. "_Parkinson_?"

He followed me, leaning against the ornately carved post of his super-ginormous bed (of which the sheets were disturbingly tangled). "What about her?"

I rolled my eyes. "Draco, there are only so many times you can ride the merry-go-round before it gets boring." I know he didn't understand what a merry-go-round is, but he got the general drift.

"Shut up," he spat. "You can hardly talk. I distinctly remember you and Zabini at the beginning of the year..."

"The difference is that Zabini is at least decent looking."

"It's not all about looks, Violent," said Malfoy in exasperation.

"Oh Merlin, Malfoy just admitted that appearances aren't everything," I raised my palm over my head and pretended to faint. Melodrama was another tactic I commonly employed. I often teamed it with a heavy dose of sarcasm, though, just to keep it interesting. "And are you saying that Pansy Parkinson actually has a personality?"

He shook his white-blonde head; he wasn't prepared to dignify that with a response, obviously. "Why didn't you just wait for me downstairs? Shit, Violent, you're so goddamn annoying!"

I grinned. "Of course. Thank you. And, uh, there's actually a reason I didn't wait for you downstairs. I just thought that discussing Dumbledore's up-and-coming murder over Christmas ham might be a little weird."

He flinched. "This is hardly the time, Violent."

I shrugged. "Sure, next time I'll simply tell Rodolphus that I'm off to visit you to talk about your little mission. It would go down really well."

Malfoy sighed. He looked very sick. Deep circles under his expressionless eyes and a grey tinge to his otherwise white skin. Why the hell was he exerting his energy on Pansy when he could be recovering for his task? And Pansy? Eww. Seriously, there were so many better girls at Hogwarts. Myself being one of them. Merlin, did I really just think that? I don't feel that way, do I? What a weird train of thought...

"Alright, what do you want to know?"

"When, where, who and how."

He sort of smiled. It completely altered his whole face. He actually looked relatively nice when he smiled instead of glared. "You make the question sound so simple."

"It is simple. I don't need a description. Just the facts."

"When? Well, as soon as I can get this bloody cabinet fixed. Where? Hogwarts, obviously. I mean, where else? Er, who? Most of the Death Eaters. And I found a way to get them all in. That's the facts."

I frowned. "How are you getting them in?"

"Vanishing cabinet," he said. "It's part of a pair. The other's in Borgin and Burkes. If I can fix the Hogwarts one, they create sort of a passage between the two. Montague got lost in one a few years back. Remember?"

I did remember back. The boy was so confused. They found him squashed in that tiny wooden box. The Weasley twins did not leave him alone for a good two weeks. It was actually quite amusing.

"And I'm guessing you're having trouble with that, yeah?"

He grimaced. "It is proving difficult, yes. It'll be done by the end of the year."

"Ah, well, if you need someone to talk to or ask... stuff, I'm here," I said, rather lamely. What was I supposed to say? Good luck? "Don't count on me for any charms or anything though."

He grinned. "That's right, our little Death Eater squib. You bring shame on you family!"

I snorted. "What family?"

He laughed. "The one downstairs that thinks we're up to something we shouldn't be..."

I nodded sagely. "Something we shouldn't be, eh? Now there's an idea," and then I added cheekily, "Nah, I'd hate to tire you out, Draco, especially after such... vigorous exercise with your dear Miss Parkinson and her simply darling personality. Better wipe yourself off; I hear she shagged Crabbe as well."

Disgust and revulsion clouded his white face. "Right. I'm cleaning up and performing some... necessary charms while you go downstairs and take the brunt of dirty comments and winks, yeah?"

"If I must..." I sighed and made a show of walking past him, sashaying my hips from side to side. I don't know why I did it. I guess 'spontaneous' is my middle name. I couldn't explain the pleasure, the _thrill_ of feeling his eyes on my body as I left his bedroom. But it was there. I could feel it in the heat of my face and the pounding of my heartbeat. Let's blame hormones, shall we?

Christmas passed quietly. I received many presents, mostly Dark objects and books. Draco had bought me a pair of diamond earrings. I laughed when he told me they liked him better than my necklace did. I managed to ignore my mother for the better part of the evening. She was hardly intrusive, sitting quietly beside Bellatrix, not saying a word.

Until she called me for a quick chat in the ballroom. Yeah, the Malfoy's have a ballroom. Merlin knows why.

"Violent, I -" she began before I interrupted her.

"Merry Christmas, Callista. But I really don't want to hear the excuses today."

"No," she said quickly. "It's not that, it's -"

"Mum. I don't want to know anymore. Just keep it to yourself and let me go back to school and try and forget it all."

"Violent, the Dark Lord wants to see you."

Silence.

I stare at her in incredulity and, yes I'll admit it, fear. I was terrified. She wasn't joking; I could see it in the harsh lines on her tanned face and the petrified olive eyes. I opened my mouth to reply, but only a trembling croak escaped.

"He asked me to bring you to him. The day before you go back to school."

That's a week. I had week until I was brought face to face with the Dark Lord. My mother had set me up to meet the evil tyrant who wanted to take over the world. And I had spoken to Dumbledore. Oh my God, Voldemort knew. He was going to kill me. I was dead. He wanted to... Oh God... My breath came in a short, spastic gasp. I felt my knees begin to shake, but I knocked them together so that they didn't bend. I would not show Callista my weakness. I would _not_.

"Why?" I managed to whisper. So much for inner strength.

She shook her head, her light brown curls bouncing. "I don't know, baby," she said. I flinched when she called me 'baby'. I couldn't help it. And it saddened her. "I don't know. He refused to tell me."

I swallowed. "It looks like I have no choice then."

And I turned and left the grand ballroom, and I left Callista Faithe standing there, her eyes fear-filled and glassy. I didn't see her sink down the wall, put her head in her hands and cry, saying over and over again "_I'm sorry, I'm sorry_".

I left the Malfoy's with Rodolphus, Bellatrix and Rabastan. I didn't say a word of gratitude. No one really noticed except Draco. He looked at me questioningly and told me that we'd talk when we got back to school. I just nodded and stepped into the fireplace, muttering the name of the Lestrange Mansion and disappearing in a ball of green flame.

The week passed slowly. The time went by like molten lava, slowly oozing down a mountainside to cover a city of terrified people. Rodolphus noticed my distance, but didn't say anything. He probably thought it was forbidden territory, like, 'girl problems' or something. I didn't correct him. I stayed in either the library or my room all day. I barely slept. I barely ate.

When I woke up the morning before I was meant to go back to school, I vomited viciously into the toilet. All I could feel as I trudged downstairs to where I knew my mother would be waiting was this bone-numbing, all-consuming fear.

**AN:**

**Merry Christmas everybody! It's eleven-pm in Sydney right now and Santa is en-route! I have to post my Christmas Special chapter before going to bed! Yes, I know, you can all thank me with many happy reviews!  
I know the chapter is a little short, but the next one will totally make up for it! Violent, meet Voldemort. What an interesting conversation they will have, don't you think? And exactly whose side is Violent on? Does _she_ even know? Find out next time on Violent Deception. Heh. I always wanted to do that...  
Please review!**

**MERRY CHRISTMAS AND HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!**

**xox xox**


	7. Chapter 6

**Violent Deception**

**Chapter Six**

I don't know where she took me. Side-along apparation always gave me a queasy feeling and I didn't pay attention when she mumbled it to me. We were walking up a steep hill, in some secluded woodland area. There was a sheer cliff face on my left side. Callista kept a tight hold of my arm, because she knew I was hardly paying attention and could walk off it at any given time.

At the top of the hill was a... castle? It was like an old-style palace, probably muggle. It balanced on the every top of the craggy slope. It looked as if one good gust of wind could blow it over and into the rocky crevasse below.

"Don't look him in the eye," my mother whispered as we stepped over the threshold. "Always address him as my Lord and do everything he asks. Don't talk unless spoken to and for godsakes keep a leash on your attitude."

I nodded, trying to keep my bottom lip from trembling. The palace was beautiful. Exquisite decorating and expensive objects everywhere. It was hardly the place you would expect the Lord of Darkness to camp out. Callista lead me up the grand staircase and along to what I presumed to be the east wing. I knew we were headed towards the back of the castle, to where it over-looked the ravine below. I gulped. Maybe Voldemort wouldn't avada me. Maybe he'd just toss me off...

"Are you ready?" she whispered, her hand on the doorknob.

I gulped. There was a sick feeling in the bottom of my stomach. _Please don't spew on Voldemort... Please don't spew on Voldemort..._

She pulled on the handle and pushed the intricate oak door open and stepped aside for me to enter. I took a step forward and turned to see if she was following. Callista shook her head slowly, her eyes on the floor. Sweet Lucius, I had to go in by myself! Please, I at least wanted someone to recount the tale of my death in a heroic poem or something...

I walked forward. There was a throne in the far end of the room, facing a wall-sized window. The paned glass was at least as large as one of the walls in the Great Hall. I walked slowly up to the throne to drop on one knee.

"M-my Lord?"

"Violent," came a rich, hissing voice. "Yes, I've been waiting to meet you, girl."

_You've already met me, dumbshit._

I lowered my head as he stood, his black cloak flowing about his skinny body. He was tall, much taller than even Rodolphus. His bare feet padded around to stand in front of me. I swallowed.

_Don't spew on Voldemort... Don't spew on Voldemort..._

"Your mother tells me you are in Harry Potter's beloved Gryffindor House at school, yes?"

I tried to reply, I really did, but my mouth was so cottony that I could not form the words.

"It was a simple question, Violent," he said silkily. "Yes or no?"

"Yes," I breathed.

"Good, good. And your relationship with Harry Potter is...?"

"Uh, strained at best, my Lord," I said, my voice a little stronger this time. My hands were resting on my bent knee, and I couldn't help raising my eyes an inch, travelling the length of the Dark Lord's calves.

The Dark Lord was silent. "Your arm, please, Violent."

I looked up, and immediately regretted it. His face was a grey, bald skull, with blood red eyes, with slits, like that of a snake. I held out my left arm and pushed up the sleeve of my robe. We both stared at the white skin of my forearm, tarnished by the inky black skull with a snake twisting from its open mouth. The Dark Lord reached out and brushed his fingers over it. I fought the urge to scream, his touch burned like fiendfyre.

The black skull seemed to writhe in anticipation and I watched it twist and turn under his vile touch in a mix of fascination and mild horror. Even my skin obeyed him. Great. My own body parts are out of my control now. I feel sorry for puppets. If anyone should meet that muggle kid/toy, Pinocchio, please give him my sincerest condolences.

"Violent," he said suddenly, I glanced up at his hideous face and realised that he was beckoning me to stand up. I peeled my knees from the cold stone floor and stood before him. I knew I was tall, but I only came to his chest. Sigh. How annoying. For years I had used my impressive figure to intimidate people and now it doesn't work. Hmm, what would happen if I fed Voldemort a shrinking potion?

"Yes, my Lord?"

"You and Callista are my most trusted followers, restoring me to full strength when I was weakest and remaining by my side during this reign of power..."

More like reign of _ugly_...

"Your mother gave you a gift a few weeks back, did she not?"

My hand whipped to my throat and the pendant that was clasped there. "Yes, my Lord."

He nodded. "I asked her to give it to you. It is one of my most valued possessions and I trust that you will guard with more than your own life."

I nodded and my hand fell to my side. "As you wish, my Lord."

_Yes, my Lord. Sure, my Lord. Would you like some tea, my Lord?_ What the bloody hell was I now, a dirty house elf?

I didn't notice the gruesome smile that flickered across his face as the thought crossed my mind. Lucky me, I guess.

"You already know of the young Malfoy's position, so I will not go over the details of that arrangement with you," he hissed delicately. I flinched. How did he know this? "I have a... request for you. Do you accept?"

Is he joking? Is he brainless? Who in their right minds would agree to something Lord Voldemort asked of them _without knowing what it is?_ Ugh. Just because I'm sixteen does not mean I'm absolutely stupid! Ignorant, yes. Obnoxious, yes. But not stupid.

_What a wanker..._

"My Lord? Uh, just a question?"

He raised an eyebrow. I saw a flash of fire in his eyes. It was the wrong thing to say, I knew that now, damn my big mouth. I could have hit myself. I couldn't stop now, though, because then I would seem indecisive, and that was one thing Voldemort did not like in his beloved Death Eaters. And besides, I really had to know.

"Well, spit it out, girl!"

Would it have taken _that_ much effort to actually say my name? Seriously, Violent. Say it with me now, _Vi-o-lent_. Imbecile.

"What is the request?"

His lip curled in evident distaste. "Can I trust you to agree to it if I tell you?

I smiled. "Don't be offended, my Lord, but do you really think you got to where you are today on _trust_? Trust is for old fools like Albus Dumbledore."

My words came out mocking and I honestly believed he was about to whip out his wand and avada me on the spot. But to my surprise, Lord Voldemort began to laugh. His chuckle could well and truly run for Evil Laugh of the Year. And win by a mile or two.

"Ah, Violent," he was still laughing. "I like you. It would be a shame if I had to kill you."

Oh, really? You think so, do you? It would sort of put a bit of a downer on Christmas, huh. Out of the corner of my eye, I thought I saw a sadistic grin spread across his face like marmalade, but perhaps it was just my imagination.

"I agree completely, my Lord."

He wasn't laughing now. Shit, I pushed it too far.

"So, we've established that you do not trust me, do you Violent?"

"No offence, my Lord, but I don't trust anyone," I said carefully, trying to pick words that would not upset him. I'd survived half an hour in his presence. Let's try to make it out alive, shall we? "I base my decisions on the respect I have for people. And I respect you, my Lord."

Voldemort smiled a cruel, cold hearted smile. I'd never seen anything more frightening in my life. "I want you to watch over Draco Malfoy at Hogwarts. To help him out a little. Not in his actual task, but in managing to get my Death Eaters into the school. Do you accept?"

I nodded my head. I was already doing that anyway. "Yes, my Lord."

Voldemort nodded, satisfied that I was being honest. He dismissed me with a wave of his hand. "That is all, you may go."

I bowed low to the ground, because it seemed fitting, and began to back slowly from the room. I didn't look out the massive window; I still could see the Dark Lord tossing me off.

"Oh, and Violent," he called suddenly, his voice hissing.

"Yes, my Lord?" I held my breath.

"If Draco should fall his final duty, it will be _your_ responsibility to eliminate him. I suggest, if you value the sweet taste of life, that you do not fail."

I gulped. "Dumbledore, you mean?"

"You will address me as 'my Lord'," he said sharply. "And no, not Dumbledore. I want you to kill Draco Malfoy. Best prepare yourself for the inevitable, Violent. His spine is as weak as Wormtail's little finger..."

I left the room.

Once out of there, I bolted down the stairs, towards the front door. I needed to be outside. I needed to get away. Anywhere but here. I barely noticed my mother running after me, telling me to stop, to wait for her.

I slowed down at the bottom of the hill, when I reached the thick woodland. But only because I needed her to side-along apparate me back to the Lestrange Estate. I was gasping for air, my shoulders heaving and my normally straight black hair was windswept and tangled, as if it were Mother Nature's personal rag-doll. I was on the verge of tears, but was stubbornly holding them back.

Callista finally caught up. She came straight to me, winding her arms around me, pulling me into a tight embrace. I was disgusted by the fact that I found it highly comforting.

"Shh," she whispered in that calming voice she possessed. "It'll be fine. I promise; it'll be fine..."

"Oh yeah?" I choked, pulling away from her. "You weren't told to kill your best friend!"

And I realised that Malfoy was my best friend. Teagan was a girlfriend; she knew me but didn't know _me_. Draco understood. He was in nearly the exact same position. In fact, I don't know how he coped for so long.

Callista didn't say anything. She didn't try to embrace me again. She just stared at me, her warm olive-coloured eyes piercing my own haunted grey ones.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. She stepped forward and once again I noticed how haggard and _old_ she really looked. My mother was thirty-six, but she didn't usually look a day over twenty-five. "I regret it now. All of it. I should never have gone to Albania. I should have dealt with it here."

"Callista..."

"No!" she shook her head. She needed to get this off her chest. "I... I sacrificed your childhood so I could be with your father again. I never considered that you'd be happier away from them all. I never thought he'd want you to... I should have left, years ago. But, Violent, I'm in too deep."

"What do I do?"

Callista shook her head again. "I don't know. I just don't know."

I blanched. It killed me to admit it, the stubborn and independent person I am, but I needed some direction here. "Help me... momma, please..."

Callista stared at me, her eyes filling with tears. The last time I had called her 'momma' was when Quirrell/Voldemort pulled me away from her onto the Hogwarts Express when I was eleven. And, like now, the sound had been one of pure despair.

"Okay," she breathed. The word seemed to give her strength. I shivered. It wasn't from the rain that was beating down through the trees to land on my shoulders. "Go back to school. Act normal. Help Draco. I'll... I'll ask to see the Head of the Auror department. Maybe I can cut you a deal," she took a deep gulp of air. "I have information. He can't possibly refuse."

"No. I'll talk to Potter when I get back to school. He'll listen to me when he hears it. He knows all the members of the Order of the Phoenix... Thanks mum."

She smiled sadly. "Let's go home. I'll write a letter for you to give to him."

I looked at her, suddenly realising the position I had put her in. She was... she was sacrificing herself. The Order would either ask her to turn spy for them - in which case she was as good as dead - or hand her over to the aurors. The second scenario was just as bad. "I'm sorry," I said slowly, as if it killed me to say it.

She shook her head. "No. It was always going to come to this. I just... should have seen it sooner. Let's go." She grabbed my arm and twisted, disapparating into nothingness, only to appear at the foyer of the Lestrange House. It was early evening. Rab would be in the library, Rodolphus was probably out doing Death Eater work and Bellatrix was more than likely playing house elf to the Dark Lord. I flinched at the thought. I hated myself for cowering before him. And now I was to kill Draco Malfoy, my one true friend, the person who probably understood everything I was going through and the one person I could not tell. Because he would believe it.

Callista lead me through the house. She didn't call out or make any motion to let its occupants know of our arrival, she simply walked to one of the empty rooms. She summoned a piece of parchment, and a quill and ink and began to write. I waited for her to finish. She held out the folded piece of parchment. "Tell Potter to give this to one of the higher ranking Order members. Not Snape. I can't be sure whose side he's on anymore. Especially after what happened to Lily..."

"Lily?"

"Severus was at school with us. He was in love with Lily Evans, Potter's mother. And the Dark Lord killed her. He hasn't been the same since."

Hmm. Maybe before the death of Potter's mum, Snape had actually washed his hair... what a strange look...

"Okay," I nodded. "Thanks, Cal-mum. I really appreciate this."

She smiled, her rosebud lips parting slightly. Her olive eyes were filled with sadness and regret. "I love you, Violent," she said before walking out. She left me there, the letter for Potter heavy in my hands.

I should have answered her. I should have told her that I forgive her. And I did. She may have abandoned me as a kid and dragged me into this mess, and Merlin knows I would never forget it, but the point was, she was trying to get me out now.

It's weird how you don't need a person until the end. You can survive, you can push past them on your way through life, but when it comes to a close, you just want them near you. And that was exactly how I was feeling.

My life was fucked. Well and truly fucked and I needed my mother to know that I loved her.

"Callista!" I yelled, bolting from the room and down the hall to the foyer. "Mum, wait!"

Callista Faithe turned around at the last second, just before she was about to disapparate. She looked confused and shocked. I ran to her and threw my arms around my mother. I pulled her close and felt the comfort that I should have known was there these last five years. I felt her smile and she embraced me back.

"I'll see you during the summer, baby," she said softly into my hair. I nodded and stepped back. She smiled tightly and disapparated.

Relief...

Happiness...

Exhaustion...

Fear...

There were hundreds of emotions struggling with in me as I climbed the stairs to my bedroom. It was at the top of the highest tower in the mansion. I'd been put there when I first stayed here. I had thrown a tantrum and yelled a lot, because I hadn't been allowed to have Teagan - a half blood - over for the weekend. Rodolphus had moved all my stuff up here and told me that if I was going to act like a spoilt princess, I was going to be treated like one. He also sent thirty house elves up to my room, all asking constantly if I needed anything. Trust me - hell on earth.

I fell into a deep sleep. But, unfortunately, it wasn't deep enough to free me of my dreams. Horrible dreams. Dreams filled with fear and screaming. Dreams in which I was covered in Draco's blood, dreams in which the Dark Lord loomed, ever present in the far reaches of my head.

When I woke the next morning, he was still there, a dark presence in the back of my mind. That same fear that made me tremble as I stood, waiting for the scarlet steam engine on Platform 9 ¾ .

Holy shit. I just realised. Voldemort is a freakin' leglimens. Oh mother of Merlin, Callista is doomed. Damn it, _I'm_ doomed. _I called him a wanker in my head_... ugh! I might as well throw myself in front of the train when pulls into the station.

The train was quite full for the Christmas holidays, especially now, with the rise of 'You-know-who'. Pathetic, all of them. They are pathetic. We are pathetic. I am pathetic...

I sat in a compartment by myself, because, really, who else was I to sit with? I wasn't sure if Teag was coming back to school or not. She was either too grumpy at me to reply to my hastily scribbled letter two weeks ago, or had never received it. For the sake of my tenuous mental health, I'm inclined to believe the latter.

I heard Potter, Weasley and Granger in the compartment in front of me. They were arguing about Scrimgeour and some guy called Percy. I vaguely remembered him as one of the older Weasels, with geeky glasses and pompous attitude.

I sighed. I was going to have to give the letter to Potter sooner or later. And giving it to him on board the Hogwarts Express was not my idea of intelligence. Anyone could overhear us. Actually, I was beginning to have my doubts about telling Potter at all. No doubt his questioning would lead to my parentage and - Shock! Horror! - he'll find out that my father was his father's best friend. Oh the drama...

My thoughts drifted back to the serious task at hand. I had to murder Draco Malfoy, my friend. And if I didn't, I would be killed and probably my mother also, just to send a message (and Draco will most likely have been off-ed as well for failing).

I felt dirty.

...Sick.

...Used.

..._Alone_.

I knew, somewhere in the cold recesses of my heart, that I was not meant to be like this. I was cruel and sharp, with a bad attitude, but I wasn't dark.

_I wasn't evil. _

I knew that whatever sort of tarnished soul I had, it could not take the life of another. And I knew that Draco could not either. And again, that same overwhelming fear took hold of me. He would be punished for being true, for just mixing with the wrong people, for being _born_. And I knew that one day soon, when the choice was heavy on _my_ shoulders, and I could not bring myself to wholly submerge in the darkest act of taking a life, of torturing, of evil... that I too would be punished.

I was, here stepping off the Hogwarts Express, a week after Christmas, realising that I would die young. And I didn't want to. I, like nearly everyone else, wanted to live, to be happy, to have the _choice_. But I knew that that choice did not belong to me. That my fate did not rest in my own hands. That I was dead the moment the Dark Lord cursed me with the blasted tattoo that covered my forearm.

It was sickening to know that I was already as good as dead.

The moment I stepped back into the castle, I made my decision. I broke away from the students swarming to the dormitories and walked slowly, deliberately, to Professor Dumbledore's office. Like I said, I was already dead. What difference would it make who I told? Killed in a week, killed in a year or so. And, even though I was now gripped by fear, I would not live with it. I would not wait to be killed, hiding behind my own terror.

Hmm. It was interesting. I finally figured why I had not been put in Slytherin. I knew that Draco would, if he had the choice, hide from his fate beneath the skirts of greater men. But I would not. The only thing that the Dark Lord will see when he points his wand at my chest and mutters those evil words are my eyes. Cold, grey, mocking and filled with determination. I refuse to die afraid.

I knocked on the door to the Headmaster's office and took a deep breath as Albus Dumbledore ushered me into his study, preparing to tell the biggest tale of deception and lost faith in the history of the world.

**xox~**

"Are you afraid of dying?" the old man asked me after I had told him about my oh-so-scintillating Christmas break and the rest of my life before that. My mother's letter was held loosely in his hands.

I stared at him, my grey eyes clear and fathomless. I thought about it for a minute. "Not dying. I'm afraid of waiting for death. Of knowing that it's coming sooner rather than later. And of not making the right choice when it comes."

He smiled at me sadly. "Do you believe in life after death?"

I looked at my hands. What's with the death inquisition, huh? "Not really. I mean, I believe there's something...more. But not for people like me. But that's okay. I don't mind, really."

"So, other than your confession, why did you come to see me?"

I shrugged. "Who better to talk to about my impending doom? And I figured you would be the last person to judge me."

He smiled at me. "You're not a bad person, Violent Faithe. You just had a bad start."

I grinned at him as I stood up. I turned to walk quickly to the door. "Yeah, well I'm not Violent Faithe anymore."

"No?" Dumbledore raised an eyebrow.

"I'm Violent Black." _And so shall I die, Black in its very truest form_. And then I left.

**AN:**

**Yeaahh! Go me! Another chapter!  
This is a New Year's present for you all, so - Happy New Year! Hope you guys all have a good one! My New Year's Resolution (_other_ than passing Maths) is to update faster! I'm going away on holidays for a week and a half so you won't hear from me in a while...**

**Apologies; like Dumbledore, I just can not seem to write a good Voldemort either. So sorry. **

**And now to a bit of shameless self advertising... Everybody check out my new story, _Screaming My Silence_. It's a Charlie/OC. I'm gonna try my hand at something that isn't completely dark and evil. Oooh.**

**Please review this! They say absence makes the heart grow fonder, this is wrong, I tell you - _wrong_! REVIEWS make the heart grow fonder!**

**xxx xxx**


	8. Chapter 7

**Violent Deception**

**C****hapter Seven**

Teagan still was not back. The Girl's Sixth dormitory was one of tension, let me tell you. Granger doesn't like me. I _know_ right! What reason could she _possibly_ have for disliking me? In case you're semi-illiterate, that was sarcasm, people. Lavender hates me because she is oh-so-in-love with the Weasel and he doesn't like me all too much and Parvati is actually okay. She's more than happy to talk to me in Ancient Runes (the only subject besides Transfiguration that I'm not actually failing) when Lavender is not present. However, if our beloved Miss Brown is in the nearby vicinity, Parvati gives me an apologetic smile and ignores me.

Therefore, I am still loner Violent. I see Draco a bit. Dumbledore told me to continue to help him, and so many an evening, I found myself in the Vanishing Room, trying to repair this goddamn cabinet. Well, he tries to repair it and I mutter about how stupid he is, that he should be doing _this_.

So, as I'm sitting in the common room two weeks later (reading the very exciting and interesting book on how to torture people with your mind, that I had received from Rodolphus - I could not wait to have Potter dancing a never ending jig on the Gryffindor table, just by using some freaky mind tricks), I by chance over hear the giggling conversation of a bunch of jumpy fourth years.

One girl, with long dark hair and dark eyes, was much more animated than the rest. Merlin, what was her name? Was it Rotilda? Romula? Um... No! Romilda. Romilda Vane, she was called. And she was almost as big a bitch as I was. By 'almost', I mean she was about a couple of miles behind. Because, honestly, no one does Bitch like I do. And yes, that noun _did_ deserve a capital. It's a title, you see. One that takes a lot of work and an overly active imagination to live up to.

Back to it. I'm not eavesdropping, I swear. All I catch are words - damn those fourteen year olds and their incessant giggling. _I_ never giggled like that when I was fourteen. Actually I never giggled... period. I had always just alternated between a sarcastic-slash-sadistic-slash-evil chuckle and a barking laugh, as a matter of fact. Though, I'll admit, the latter was rare. I keep hearing words like "love", and "chocolate" and "Harry Potter" to be followed by "Slughorn's party". Now there are four completely unrelated things in a sentence. Tell me, how _does_ one string that together to form meaning? Well, folks, leave it to me. I'm just a genius that way.

So, I guess "love" and "chocolate" can go together. And Potter was always invited to Slughorn's parties (as a matter of fact, so was I, because of my mother's well known stint at the Ministry - apparently, she was a rather gifted witch) - I had seen him at the last one, hanging of the arm of the crazy Loony Lovegood . So, I've paired them off and now I just have to figure how the bloody hell love and chocolate fit in with Potter being at Slughorn's party.

I hear Romilda speak up, her friends quitting their annoying giggling to listen to her. "Weasley's Wizard Wheezes is great. The love potion in the chocolate cauldrons I gave him before Christmas is strong enough to have Harry fall head over heels for me. And, of course, once he's declared his undying love, he'll ask me to go with him to Slughorn's next party. It's infallible!"

And there you have it. So I was nearly there in my own hypothesising. Ten points to moi. But then, when I actually think about her words, I burst out laughing. How embarrassing, right? I'm sitting _by myself _and suddenly I start cackling like a madwoman for no apparent reason. I got a few odd looks, to say the least. But no one really paid attention; Violent Faithe having always been a little strange. Pfft. Tossers.

Romilda Vane wants Potter to fall in love with her. Romilda Vane is going to physically (or, rather, chemically) _make_ Potter fall in love with her. Romilda Vane is an idiot. The girl is delusional. Hasn't she heard? Potter's already in love - with his reflection. Well it was definitely set to be amusing, to say the least.

~xox~

I woke up one morning, two weeks since that fateful meeting with the Dark Lord, and groaned. It was the Weasel's birthday. 'How do I know this?' you ask. Call it divine intuition. Or maybe it was because in the room across (Boy's Sixth) I could hear Weaselbee jumping around yelling, "Get up, Harry, it's my birthday!"

I sighed as I got ready. It was a Saturday, and I was going to meet Malfoy at the library and walk up to the Vanishing Room with him. Stepping out the door, I scowled as I saw Potter leading a very strange-looking side-kick behind him.

"You're late, Won-Won!" said Lavender Brown as Potter and Weasley climbed through the portrait hole ahead of me. "I've got you a birthday -"

Weasley cut her off impatiently. "Leave me alone. Harry's going to introduce me to Romilda Vane."

And in that second, I knew exactly what had happened. 'Won-Won' had eaten Romilda's spiked chocolate cauldrons. Oh my, this was just too good. Ron Weasley thought himself to be in love with the lovely Miss Vane. I laughed out loud.

Potter turned to glare at me.

"You should take him straight to Slughorn," I said, trying to keep a straight face. "I wouldn't talk to anyone on the way, if I were you."

"You knew about the love potion?" Harry - oh my God, I mean Potter - said sharply.

I fell into step beside him, seeing as Slughorn's office was quite near the library.

"I luuurrrvvveee RRooommmiiilllldddaaa!" sang Weasley.

Ignoring him, I continued, "Of course. I know everything, didn't somebody tell you?"

"No, but they did tell me you were arrogant..."

I grinned at him. This was new. Potter never tried to defend himself. "Yeah? Well the fact that you needed someone to _tell_ you that I'm arrogant, denotes just how thick you really are, Potter. But, if Romilda finds out the potion worked, she'll try it again. Maybe next time you won't be so lucky, Scar-Head. I can only hope, though, right?"

"Why are you telling me this?" asked Potter in confusion.

"Uh, well now you'll be all stressed and on your guard and stuff, that you won't even notice when I humiliate you in front of your posse."

We had reached the library and Ronald was already questioning if it was too forward of him to ask her to Hogsmeade, considering he'd never met her. I was about to step away from The Child Hero and his slobbering side-kick, when said side-kick fell to the ground.

Potter kneeled beside him, asking his dazed friend if he was alright. I stood there, watching with sincere amusement.

"I can't _live_ without her," Ron gasped and clutched his chest. "I have to be near her, _forever_..."

I pressed my hand over my mouth to keep from laughing too loudly. I didn't want to draw attention to the fact that I was willingly within a five-meter radius of Potter.

"C'mon, Ron," said Harry, tugging Weasley's elbow. "Get up, let's go. I told you, she does extra lessons with Slughorn. You can ask her to Hogsmeade there. Let's _go_."

But Weasley was not moving, proclaiming to the entire world that Romilda Vane held his heart and he would not move until he saw her. I sighed. It was funny at first, but now it was getting old.

I went to Weasley's other side and heaved. With - groan - Potter's help, we managed to get him to his feet. We physically dragged him down the corridor to Slughorn's office.

I rapped on the door. The obese professor answered, looking at Ron (who was now singing "A Cauldron Full of Hot Strong Love" at the top of his lungs) and ushered us inside.

I stood by the door, preparing to run, when Slughorn offered us all some mead, after curing Weasley. Hey, I'm only human; I couldn't turn down Rosmerta's finest.

The half an hour went rather well, I must say. I mean, as well as can be expected with my current state of mind and barbed remarks. But I wasn't that bad. I think I only called Potter a pathetic loser, like, twice. See? I was being good.

Until Weasley started turning blue. He began choking and gasping, clawing at his throat like a dying animal. He'd been poisoned. Potter was kneeling over him and telling the Professor to do something. Slughorn was immobile. I threw myself to the ground next to Weasley, running my hand over his throat. I pried his mouth open, trying to see if he had choked on something. It was empty, except for the flecks of spittle that kept flying up.

"Do something!" I yelled at our frozen Potions master. Potter stood up and ran to the cabinet. He rummaged through the boxes until he came up with what looked like a small pebble.

A bezoar.

Thank Merlin. I may hate Potter, but I can't deny that this was a moment of genius. He ran back to Weasley and shoved the rock-looking thing down his throat. Weasley stopped coughing and went still. Slughorn then came back to life and waddled off to fetch Madam Pomfrey.

Potter was breathing hard, as a matter of fact, so was I. I may not like the Weasel, but I had never pictured him dying. It was horrible. I wiped at the saliva that was dribbling down his chin with the back of my sleeve. I let a shaky breath out.

"Who would want to poison Ron?" asked Potter quietly.

And as soon as he said it, it hit me. The poison was not meant for Ron. It was for me. Voldemort must know that I had told Dumbledore. Oh fuck.

I gasped and stood up, nearly kneeing Potter in the face in the process. I made up some pathetic Potter-esque excuse about feeling lightheaded from all the commotion and bolted from the room.

I ran, like, literally, _ran_, through the corridors. I fled through the medieval castle like - to quote the muggle guy, whatshisface, uh, _Fruitloaf_? - a bat outta hell. I didn't stop once, not even when the tearing stitch in my side threatened to rip me open from the inside, until I reached Professor Dumbledore's office.

Just as I raised my hand to knock, the silver bearded wizard stepped out. One gaze at my terrified face told him everything.

"I just received word from Horace about Mr Weasley. His family has been contacted. I'm assuming that is what this concerns, yes?" he asked patiently. He didn't invite me in, which made me think that he was on his way to meet the Weasleys.

"Do you know who it was, sir?" I asked, trying desperately to regain my breath.

Dumbledore turned his piercing blue stare open me. He wasn't staring into the murky depths of my soul or some cliché shit like that, more like he was analysing me. Checking. After all, I was a Death Eater. I could hardly blame him, even if he was using Leglimency to ascertain that I was not spying on him.

"Yes, I do," he said. Obviously, he was not willing to tell me. Or perhaps he was just uncomfortable discussing the identity of Ronald Weasley's would-be assassin on his stairway.

I breathed out. What should have been a smooth whoosh of carbon dioxide, came out as a strangled gasp of terror.

"Do you know who the poison was for?"

Dumbledore's blue eyes flickered. Had he not expected the question? "Yes, I do," he repeated slowly.

I gulped. "Who, Professor? It sure as hell wasn't meant for Weasley." _It was for me._

"Me, Violent," he said slowly. "Slughorn was going to give that mead to me as a Christmas present."

Relief. The Dark Lord was not out to kill me... yet. But someone was trying to kill Dumbledore. Someone had been trying all year. Someone I knew.

"Draco," I breathed, my small eyebrows knitting together in concentration.

Dumbledore nodded. "I'm sorry, Violent, but I must meet with Mr and Mrs Weasley now. If you would like to talk later...?"

I shook my head. "No, no. It's fine. I just... I just thought that... Never mind. It doesn't matter. I'll just be going then. Thanks, sir."

"You thought it was meant for you, didn't you, Violent?"

I chuckled weakly. "Yeah. I thought the Dark Lord must know I'd turned traitor. Scared me. I'll let you go now, Professor."

I stepped down a couple of steps. "What are you going to do now, Violent?"

"I'm off to have a word with Malfoy," I said darkly. "And then Potter will probably corner me later. Brilliant," I muttered.

Dumbledore followed me down the steps into the hallway. We walked a couple of paces in silence in the general direction of the hospital wing.

"Are you planning on telling Harry about your father?" he asked suddenly. I came to a stand-still.

I focussed on not laughing in Albus Dumbledore's face. Someone once told me it was rude or something... "No. That is definitely not a conversation I intend to have with Harry Potter. Like, _ever_."

Dumbledore looked sad for a moment. "Very well. I shall see you soon, Violent."

"Yeah," I mumbled. "Sure, thanks Professor."

I walked away from him quickly. I didn't care if I was rude, Albus would no doubt get over it. I walked briskly to the library, wondering if Draco would still be there, considering I'd been gone for well over two hours. Woopsie.

He was leaning against one of the stone pillars that supported the library. He was cracking his knuckles menacingly and a furious scowl was scrawled upon his perfect face.

His angel's face...

Wait, where the _hell_ did that just come from?

I shook my head and walked forward. His eyes trailed lazily over my calves, then my thighs, lingering on my upper torso and finally settled on my face. The liquid metallic grey seemed to flash with cold fury.

"You stood me up," he said, malice coating every syllable.

I raised an eyebrow. "You waited."

He rolled his eyes. "Yeah. How stupid of me. You obviously have more important things to do."

"Does it bother you, Draco, that I have things to do?" I said scathingly. Why was I being so mean? Um... habit? "I'm a busy woman, you know. People to bully, first years to terrorise, Potter to intimidate. The usual. But I am sorry I'm late."

He glared. "Two hours, Violent? Fuck, it only takes two seconds to humiliate Scar-head!"

I moved to lean against the wall next to him. "If you must know, Weasel had an accident..." And I proceeded to tell him about how Weasel was poisoned. I left out the bit about his sudden infatuation with Romilda Vane, because while I'm a cruel bitch, I am selective about the information I pass on. And Draco had no use for that little bit of gossip. Granger, however, I did plan to tell.

Draco swallowed the explanation and peeled himself off the wall. He walked without another word in the direction of the entrance to the Vanishing Room. I followed him, sensing a stressful three hours of cursing and ill wishes. This was not going to be fun.

~xox~

Life is a bitch. She pushes you around until you feel like you have absolutely no where to go and then goes in for the kill. I had always thought that living was just a really slow version of dying, like, life itself is a disease, destroying you subtly from the inside before you even realise. But now I was realising it. And, damn, it was bloody obvious just how serious this disease was.

Alright, so I'm acting pretty normal, considering I'm reasonably close to being murdered. Yeah, I know I'm going to be killed one of these days, and I know that Dumbledore is trying to plan and find a way around it and I know that Malfoy is beginning to feel the pressure of his assignment and lash out at random people. I know a lot. But that's not going to save me. Death is inevitable, no matter how many schemes Dumbledore hatches, no matter how many deals Callista cuts.

Death is inevitable.

It's coming for me.

Creeping slowly like a noxious gas.

And strangely enough, I'm not as scared as I was. I feel... free. Because, like I said, it's definitely coming in the near future and there's no point fretting about it.

What I am fretting about, however, is finding a way out of Draco's situation. Like me, he's as good as dead if he fails. Unlike me, he would not go down fighting. He would run and try and save his own skin. And death would find him just that little bit later.

I needed to find a way to save him.

Disgusted as I am by the fact, I care deeply for my friend. I hate caring. It makes me anxious. The things I care about usually go up in flames, and that's the nice version.

I leaned back against my head-board. It was late at night and my thoughts - and feelings - were cloudy. I needed clarity. I needed to be able to see things clearly. I needed to sleep...

~xox~

**(----One Month Later----)**

Teagan and Katie returned to Hogwarts the next day. Teag was back by my side and I realised just how much I missed her incessant chattering. Granted, it would be much harder to sneak out to see Malfoy now, but I didn't care. Teag was back.

Katie didn't remember anything of the incident. She did come and thank me for helping her out though. I just smiled and told her it was no trouble and that I was glad she was okay.

Won-Won and Lavender broke up. She cried a few times in the dormitories and asked me if I was a 'heartless bitch' when I didn't move to comfort her and instead laughed at her pitiful display. Also, Weaselette and Dean Thomas broke up as well. Funny. Potter and Granger both seem to be in a much better mood since the two Weasley relationships failed.

Draco was getting worse. These days he was downright depressed. We'd taken to meeting in the abandoned girls bathroom on the second floor when we weren't fiddling with that damn cabinet.

The ghost who resided there - Moaning Mildred or something (I'm terrible with names) - seemed to have a very strange effect on him.

Today I was seated on the tiled floor, leaning casually against the cubicle door. Draco was leaning against the sink, his hands gripped tightly around the white basin.

"Draco, just relax about it okay," I said in exasperation. "I understand you're stressed but you're not helping yourself - or the mission - when you're so jumpy. Calm down."

"Yes," said the creepy Ghost-Girl. "Tell me what's wrong. I can help you."

"No one can help me," he muttered. His body was shaking brutally. "I can't do it... I can't... it won't work...and unless I do it soon... he says he'll kill me..."

I let out a shaky breath. Draco was crying. I stood up and started to make my way over to him, to lend what limited comfort I could, when he looked up. His face was wet and his bloodshot eyes focused on something in the grimy mirror. He spun suddenly, the shock and horror mixing on his face. I froze. Something was wrong. I couldn't see what Draco was looking at from behind the sink, but he flicked out his wand and blocked some jinx. He raised his wand to fire a hex at something - no, somebody- who was evidently standing just past the door.

"No! No! Stop it!" squealed Moaning Whatsherface. Her whiny voice echoed around the room. "Stop! STOP!"

There was a loud bang as something exploded. I jumped and moved to stand just behind Malfoy. I was no help in a duel. I could barely unlock a door (magically, that is) and thus I didn't even bother pulling out my wand. Draco's face was taut with concentration and fury.

Another spell hit the cistern beneath Ghost-Girl who screamed loudly as water poured everywhere. I slipped, falling forward. From my new position on the wet ground, I could see the attacker. Potter.

Oh fuck.

"Cruc -" began Malfoy. I gasped. He couldn't possibly use an Unforgivable on Potter. That was just...

"SECTUMSEMPRA!" I heard Potter bellow. I had never heard that spell before. I turned to see if Draco had blocked it.

I screamed when I saw the blood pouring his face and chest. He staggered backwards and I leapt up, my feet sliding on the slick tiles, to catch him as he collapsed onto the wet floor. His wand fell from his limp hand.

"No -" gasped Potter, lumbering over to where I was cradling the blood-soaked Draco.

Draco's hands were clutching at his torn chest, the white skin on his fingers quickly turning crimson with his own blood.

My fingers were running through his hair and I was trying to calm him. His legs were scraping against the floor.

Was he dying? I didn't know. And I didn't know how to open my mouth and scream for help either.

But Ghost-Girl did. And she screamed bloody murder. Literally. "MURDER! MURDER IN THE BATHROOM! MURDER!"

Suddenly, the door burst open to reveal a livid looking Snape. The greasy haired man shoved Potter aside and knelt beside his student. The tears were running down my face. The hook-nosed teacher traced his wand over the deep, gushing wounds. The blood flow eased from that of a raging river to the soft ebbing of a gentle stream. The cuts seemed to be knitting together. I wiped the sleeve of my shirt over Draco's face, trying to get the blood out of his eyes.

With Snape's help, I eased Malfoy to a half-standing position. Snape started muttering about the hospital wing and scarring. I ignored him and practically dragged my friend out of the bathroom, heading to the infirmary. Snape followed, after telling Potter to wait for him.

"What exactly happened back there, Miss Faithe?" asked Snape, his yellow teeth flashing.

"Malfoy and me were in the bathroom, er, talking, and Potter came in. They started hexing each other... it was horrible," I shook my head and lifted Draco's head onto my shoulder, rather than having it lolling about against his chest. I wasn't sure whether I should tell Snape that Draco was about to crucio Potter. In the end I didn't. It would only make things worse. Besides, Malfoy had been punished enough. My stomach lurched as my eyes flickered to the blood that was dripping from his robes.

We entered the hospital wing and Snape lifted Draco onto an empty bed (not quite sure how, unless he's been working out down in those disgusting dungeons) and yanked the curtains closed, hurrying off to fetch Madam Pomfrey from her chambers.

I tried to make Draco more comfortable, removing his shoes and tie and wiping at the blood that was pooling in the folds of the sheet he was lying on.

"What happened?" he coughed. I didn't flinch when he spat blood.

I sat down on the mattress next to him, clasping my hands together because I didn't know what to do with them. "Potter cursed you. I don't think he knew what the spell was for. It was... so horrible... frightening... so much blood..."

"Sorry," he whispered.

"Why?" I asked in incredulity.

"For scaring you."

I smiled tightly. I looked up when I heard the tapping of shoes on tile but couldn't see anything because of the closed curtains. "Pomfrey's coming. Do you want me to stay?"

He tried to shrug, but winced. "If you want..."

I waited.

He sighed. "Yes, I want you to stay."

I smiled slightly and moved to the empty chair while Madam Pomfrey fussed over Malfoy's cuts. Once again I received the pleasure of seeing Draco sans shirt, but the blood and gore everywhere put a bit of a damper on the celebration of his near nudity. Damn.

This was the third time I'd witnessed a near death. First Katie, then Weasley and now Draco. Strangely enough, Potter was there for each incident as well. I'm sensing a pattern... I kept my speculations to myself, however, even when Snape returned. I desperately wanted to know how Potter was punished.

I leaned back in the rather uncomfortable chair, a frown marring my blood-spattered features. How dare Potter use a curse like that! It was obviously Dark magic and neither Malfoy nor I had ever heard it before. And that was strange as we'd both been heavily tutored in the Dark Arts, him more so than me. I had a feeling that Snape recognised it though, as he was able to perform the appropriate Healing charms. I felt a sudden surge gratitude for Snape, that he had been patrolling the corridors so close to that bathroom.

Madam Pomfrey was now making Draco drink a peculiar purple liquid that had the colour and consistency of a poorly crushed eggplant. I watched his face screw up in revulsion as he swallowed.

"Potter is going to die for this," he spat furiously, but then gasped from the pain of his cuts. I made no move to help him get comfortable again. He could do that much by himself.

"Drakie!" I heard a door open and the shrill voice echoed throughout the infirmary. Before I had time to look up and kindly tell the intruder to 'fuck off', the owner of the voice had daintily hopped up onto the bed. I glared at the pug-faced Slytherin. He'd only been in here an hour, how could she possibly know? "Is Dwakie-poo okway?"

"'Dwakie-poo' is fine, Parkinson," I said rudely, imitating her baby-voice. "Now, get the fuck out."

Pansy glared at me from her position at Draco's left hip. Draco looked on in a mixture of amusement and pain.

"Just 'cause you're shagging him doesn't give you the right to boss everybody about," she sneered.

I snorted. "Right back atcha, Miss Walking-STD of the Year..."

Draco tried to smother a laugh, and ended up coughing in pain and clutching his chest. I rolled my eyes.

"Oh _no_ you did _not_!"

What the bloody hell does that mean? "Uh? I guess I just... did?"

"Bitch!"

"Slytherin trash..."

"Whore!"

"Bit rich coming from you, isn't it, Parkinson? How many boys in this building _haven't_ you shagged?" She said nothing. "That's what I thought..."

"You're gonna die, slut!"

And I snapped. No one gets to threaten me with my own death other than Voldemort. Parkinson was the scum beneath my feet and had no right to talk about my impending doom to my face. "GET THE FUCK OUT, PARKINSON!" I yelled at the height of my vocal capability. "GET YOUR DIRTY, FILTHY, FUCKING FACE OUT OF THIS FUCKING INFIRMARY OR I SWEAR TO MERLIN I WILL BEAT THE FUCKING SHIT OUT OF YOU AND KICK YOUR FUCKING ARSE ALL THE WAY TO FUCKING AUSTRALIA! GET THE _FUCK_ OUT!"

And she did. Pansy Parkinson disappeared faster than a mudblood confronted with Lucius Malfoy. Now that is saying something.

Draco raised an eyebrow. "A little much, don't you think?"

"Fuck off..."

~xox~

Malfoy got out of the hospital wing a week later. He had scars all over his chest, but - thank Merlin - the ones on his jaw seemed to heal okay. Apparently, they weren't as deep as the rest of the cuts.

We spent the majority of every second night in the Vanishing Room, attempting to fix the damn cabinet. It was proving difficult.

"Violent," he said to me calmly one day. I was sitting beside him in the Room, a book propped open on my crossed legs. He was next to me, waving his wand over the bloody piece of wood. "I don't think I can do this anymore..."

"What do you mean?" I asked, without looking up from _Magical Objects and Their Uses_.

"This," he said, gesturing to the room. "All of it. It's not even worth it."

I looked up from the book in my lap. "It is worth it," I said quietly.

"No," he argued. "It's not."

"It's always worth it, Draco," I countered, feeling very much like an intelligent philosopher... or Dumbledore. "You just gotta decide whether to keep fighting for it."

Yeah. Go me. Don't I sound smart? Or sappy? Or ridiculously cliché? But who even cares, right?

"That made no sense, Violent."

Damn. "It does too," I sniffed, hoping to Merlin that I walked away from this conversation with my dignity intact.

"I think I'd rather die than go through with this..."

I stared hard at him. I could see that Draco was beginning to fade. He looked... terrible. Like life had given up on him.

Or maybe he'd just given up on life...

"We're all gonna die," I said seriously. "You and me, probably sooner than the rest."

He thought about it for a minute. "Yeah. You're right. Doesn't make me feel any better though..."

I laughed. "It wasn't supposed to."

"No, you are right. It doesn't matter if I complete my task. He'll kill me and my family any way. We're liabilities. Lucius has failed him too many times."

"What do you want, Draco?" I asked suddenly. I hated this conversation, and it seemed to be one that I was having with myself a lot lately. I needed something - anything - that could change the subject. "What do you want most in the world right now?"

"Warmth," he said simply. "Just to feel human again."

I smiled. I could fix that. I pushed the book out of my lap and jumped to my feet. "Right, stand up then."

He stood, slowly and hesitantly. "What are you doing?"

"Making you feel human again."

And I kissed him.

Yeah, yeah, I know no one wants mushy details. But it was nice. And it made both of us warm and we both broke away, feeling a little more grounded, a little more human than we did before.

Draco looked up at me and I stared into his eyes. They burned intensely. It wasn't heat, it wasn't lust, and it most certainly wasn't love. In those pools of liquid steel, all I could see was gratitude.

And I was glad I could make him warm. I was glad I could make someone feel wanted, human. Because inside, I was spiralling out of control and it was only a matter of time before I hit the ground. And I was going to hit it. Hard.

**AN:**

**YAY! Another chapter... I'm going away again for a few days so I thought I'd post it quickly before I leave - this way I hope to have loads of reviews to smile over when I get back. I wrote this in two days with very little time spent on proofreading, so it is quite, er, messy...**

**Draco was a little OTT in this wasn't he? I think my version of Draco is suffering bi-polar...**

**Sadly, this story only has a few more chapters to go (not quite sure on the number yet, I'm thinking around fifteen...) but relax because at this stage there WILL be a sequel. It will be about Violent's Seventh Year at Hogwarts. At the moment, I'm tossing up between two very different endings. It's sooo hard to make a decision and I need to for the direction of the story... Grr. **

**Please review. I swear I can live off them...**

**xx xx**


	9. Chapter 8

**Violent Deception**

**Chapter Eight**

"Wake the hell up, Teag!" I yelled. I was dressed and ready for double Defence Against The Dark Arts - groan - but my friend was still in bed. And it was five to nine. I had exactly five minutes to get the girl out bed, dressed and down to the East Wing before Snape tosses us into his Essence of Delirium or whatever the hell it is. "Get up!"

"Wha?" she asked groggily, rubbing at her eyes.

"Get the hell out of bed! We have to be in the East Wing in five fucking minutes!"

"Yeah, yeah," she yawned, stretching her arms out comically. "Just gotta have a quick shower..."

"Nuh uh," I said and came around to her side. I tugged her duvet off and dumped it on the floor. I grabbed her forearm and yanked her out of bed and then went straight to her cupboard. And it was _messy_. "Merlin, Tegs, how do you find anything in here?"

"It's organised mess," sniffed Teagan. She started towards the bathroom but I cut her off.

"No time for a shower. Take one during the lunch hour, okay? We're late for _Snape_."

"SNAPE!?" she shrieked. "Why didn't you bloody say so?"

I had never seen Teag move so fast in my life. I swear to Merlin I blinked and she was suddenly ready.

She grabbed my arm and hauled me out of the dormitory. Hey, what the hell? I'm supposed to be the forceful, obnoxious, dominant one!

We ran for the East Wing. Honestly, we tried our best, but it's physically impossible to get from Gryffindor Tower to the East Wing in three and a half minutes. Seriously, it would normally take a good fifteen minutes at the least.

As it was, we were only ten minutes late. And, no, Snape wasn't happy, Jan.

"Miss Faithe, Miss Bell," he sneered as we hurried into the Defence classroom, panting and gasping for air. "I believe you are fifteen minutes late to my class. An explanation, if you will?"

"Sorry, sir," I gasped. "Slept in."

"Both of you?"

"Uh huh." I nodded.

"Take your seats. Twenty points from Gryffindor and you will both see me after class to discuss Detention."

Fuck.

I looked around the room. It was crowded. Teag dashed forward to take the only seat left on the Gryffindor side of the room. Bitch. I couldn't blame her though - I would have done the same thing. I groaned. I had to sit with the Slytherins.

I walked over slowly, in my head considering my options. I could sit with either Pansy Parkinson or Blaise Zabini, as they were the only two with a spare seat beside them. I was seriously beginning to think that the Big Guy upstairs wanted me dead as well as the several hundred others. Pansy Parkinson, for obvious reasons, hates my guts and wishes me dead, and Blaise happens to be my ex-boyfriend. Kill me now, Voldemort, _please_.

I sighed and took the seat beside Blaise. I mean, at least we could be civil. With Pansy, I can never be too sure who'll crack and hit the other first. Especially after how I threatened her in the Hospital Wing.

"Hey, Violent," he said under his breath.

"Blaise," I greeted him tentatively. Don't you love those awkward conversations with the ex, particularly when you've decided not to let it be awkward between you? "How are you?"

"Yeah. Good. Yourself?"

"Alright."

"How's your -"

"Miss Faithe, I am loath to take more points from Gryffindor. If you would please keep your mouth shut and open to page two hundred and twenty-three, I would appreciate it," said Snape silkily. Ugh. He was so gross.

My mum told me once about how Snape used to get picked on at school. The kids used to call the greasy-haired boy 'Snivellus'. Rather inventive. I like it. Mental note: when I have the chance, I must use this name to goad Snape.

I didn't mention to the hook-nosed man that Blaise was the one doing most of the talking.

"Sorry," Blaise whispered. I did like him. He was attractive with his dark skin, thick curly black hair and dark eyes. And he was nice enough to the people he liked. I was glad it was a mutual decision when we broke up. There was just nothing... there you know. Besides, we only dated for a few months. I nodded at him, to show that I understood.

The class went quickly. When it ended, Teagan and I both went up the front to discuss our detentions with Snape.

"Miss Bell, let's see," he began, running his long finger down a piece of parchment. "I do believe that Professor Sinistra needs assistance tomorrow evening at five o'clock oiling the telescopes in the Astronomy Tower. It sounds like a perfect task for you."

"Yes, sir," said Teag. I could see her inwardly groaning. Those telescopes were _dirty_.

"You may leave," Snape dismissed her. Teag shot me a look of sympathy (it sucks to be alone with Snape) and hurried off to Divination.

"Violent, Professor Dumbledore needs to speak to you right away."

"Huh? What about my detention?" I asked in confusion.

"What detention?" asked Snape smoothly before continuing, "As I said, you and I shall make our way to the Headmaster's office immediately."

This was too much. Had Dumbledore heard something? Did he have any more details about my coming assassination?

I followed Snape numbly, my thoughts jumbled and my movements slow, through the castle. He took the quickest route to the Headmaster's office and stopped beside the stone gargoyle. He said the password and gestured for me to take the steps ahead of him. Aw, who knew Snape was a gentleman?

I knocked on the door and pushed it open when I heard Dumbledore call 'Enter'.

I stepped into the room. Merlin, I hated this room. Every time I was here I always had a horrible conversation - Draco's fate, my fate - and I wondered what bad news was in store for me this time.

"Ah, Violent," said Dumbledore, standing up slowly. "Please, take a seat."

"Is there something you wanted, sir?" I asked carefully, sitting down in the comfortable chair in front of his honey-coloured desk.

Dumbledore sighed. I watched him in confusion. I hadn't seen him look so haggard, ever. I was vaguely aware of Snape, shrouded in shadow, standing in the corner of the room. "I hate to have to tell you this. I'm afraid I have some terrible news."

Oh? That Voldemort's coming for me? No, thanks, I already know. I was tempted to say something sarcastic, after all, what news these days is good? But I sensed the seriousness of this conversation, so I remained quiet.

"Violent, you're mother is dead."

Silence. All I can hear is the silence. The pumping of blood through my body, the beating of my cold heart. My hands were shaking.

"What?" I asked quietly, looking up. My grey eyes met his blue ones and it scared me to see the sadness and sorrow that was contained in those electric blue depths.

"Callista was killed last night, at fourteen to eleven, in a muggle castle near Aberdeen. It was burnt to the ground. I'm so sorry. So incredibly sorry."

Shock. All I feel is shock. Numbness.

"Killed?" I finally managed to ask, my voice no more than a tremor. I kept my eyes fixed on Dumbledore's magenta robes, feeling the dryness. I felt like crying, like curling up and bawling my eyes out, but I couldn't bring myself to fall apart. Not here. Not in front of these men.

"Professor Snape was present, working for me. If you like, he can tell you the details."

"Show me," I whispered.

Dumbledore faltered, clearly not expecting this. "I don't think that is wise, Violent. It's not pleasant."

"My mother was murdered. Obviously it's not pleasant," I said softly, not finding within myself to call up the right amount of sarcasm. "Just show me. Please," I begged.

Dumbledore hesitated. He glanced at the back of his office, where Snape was standing. I saw him nod and glanced around to look myself. Snape moved forward, to a cupboard near the left wall. He opened the cabinet and I caught a glimpse of white basin and swirling mist. A Pensieve.

Snape stared at me. "Are you sure?"

I nodded, not sure if I was able to speak without crying. My mum was dead. My mum was gone. _Gone_.

I stood up and moved towards the white sink, my steps were slow and I couldn't tell if I was upright or not. It was like that feeling, when you get out of bed too fast and the whole world tilts.

My whole world was tilting.

I stumbled my way across the room. Snape raised his wand to his head and drew from it a silver thread. He placed it carefully in the Pensieve.

"Do you wish someone to accompany you, Violent?"

I shook my head. I don't know who asked, but I presumed it to be Dumbledore, because Snape sure as hell wouldn't offer. Besides, I don't think I could deal with someone witnessing it along side me.

I stepped forward, placing my hands on the rims of the basin. I turned to look at the old man with the white beard. "Will you wait here for me, though? I don't think I want to be alone after..."

Dumbledore nodded his head. I turned back to the Pensieve and leaned forward, towards the memory of my mother's murder.

~xox~

I hit the floor hard. I quite possibly broke my femur. I looked around, starting when I realised that I recognised the room. It was the hall in that horrible muggle palace in which I had previously met the Dark Lord. I trembled, noticing that the room was not empty.

My mother was still, lying tragically on the floor by the enormous window that overlooked the hideous ravine. I could see her chest moving, taking in oxygen, but her eyes were closed.

Standing coolly near the window, was Voldemort, twirling his wand between his long, white fingers. I shivered. This was a mistake. I didn't want to see this. I knew that they couldn't see me, that they couldn't hear me, that it was a just a memory. But it was so _real_. I heard a shuffling sound from the other end of the huge room. I turned my gaze and saw Snape, standing in the far corner, watching with a mixture of concern and fear.

_Why didn't he help her?_

"Talking to the Aurors, Callista, my darling," I heard the Dark Lord snarl. He was furious. He was hurt. He was irrational. His closest supporter, his favourite, had betrayed him. For me. This was my entire fault. I had begged her to help me.

_What have I done?_

Callista didn't move. She made no attempt to get up; her emerald-coloured robes were still splayed about her prone form. _Get up, Mum_, I begged in my head, _please, just get out of here_.

"Do you know what I do to traitors, my darling?" he asked her in a mock gentle voice. "I think the last traitor we had in our midst was Regulus Black, your beloved's brother. Interesting, very interesting. Do you remember him? He looked _so_ like your sweet Sirius. They could have been twins. And, now they're both dead. With you soon to follow, my darling."

I heard a wretched sob from where my mother lay. No. I didn't want to see this. It was stupid. It was a mistake.

"What's that, my sweet?" asked Voldemort, moving towards her.

"I said," I heard Callista's shaky voice growl. "That you can kill me whenever you bloody well like, you don't have to stand here talking about it."

Go Mum.

I watched in horror as she slowly got to her feet, her brilliant green robes billowing in the draft that was whipping through the room. She looked strong, with her brown curls and angry olive eyes.

"So courageous, just like her daughter," laughed Voldemort. "She's a Gryffindor, isn't she?"

I hardly registered that they were talking about me. All I could hear was me begging for her to get the hell out.

"You leave my daughter out of this, you bastard!"

At this, he laughed harder. "No, I don't think I will. You see, Violent has done nothing to disobey me. The Malfoy boy is closer than ever to killing that old fool with her help. She'll make a great follower, don't you agree, Callista? Violent Black, The Right Hand to the Dark Lord. Just like her mother used to be."

"I won't!" I screamed, the tears finally making their way down my pale cheeks. "I'll never serve you!"

But no one could hear me. Callista was still staring at him in horror, he was still twirling his wand, and Snape was still looking on in dislike.

"You better hurry up, Tom. The Aurors will be here soon. I've told them where we are."

He sobered, his chuckles dying down. "Yes, indeed. I am fortunate that our location is all you managed to get through in that floo message of yours. I am glad Bella found you when she did, otherwise all our plans will have to change. Bella's coming along for the fun tonight, did I tell you? I thought she should have a chance to punish you before I dispatch you."

"Bring her on," snarled Callista. "Bellatrix was always your little house elf, wasn't she, Tom?"

The Dark Lord stared at her, his red eyes filled with hatred. "Indeed," was all he said. A minute ticked by in silence. It was dark in the room. The sparse candles held blue flames, creating a flickering non-light. It was eerie. It was... scary.

The door swung open. I whipped around, to see Bellatrix march across the room. She knelt at his feet. "My lord, I come to serve you and only you. Never would I betray your trust."

I felt sick, I could taste the sour bile at the back of my throat.

"Disgusting, isn't she?" said Mum, eyeing Bella with evident distaste. "So servile, so pathetic. Grow a spine one of these days, won't you, Bella?"

Bellatrix hissed, her black hair seemed to crackle with the tension in the room. Her grey eyes were fixed on her once-friend.

"My lord, may I show her some respect?"

Voldemort nodded and turned toward the window. Bellatrix stood and moved forward, grinning like a mad woman. Callista didn't take the expected step back. She was unarmed and the distance would not help her.

"_Crucio_!" screamed Bellatrix, pointing her wand at my mother's chest.

"No!" I yelled, bolting forward as my mother crumpled to the ground, gasping and twitching in agony. "Stop! Please!" I knelt beside Callista as she cringed in utmost pain. I tried to soothe her, to wipe the sweat from her brow and the hair from her face, but my hand sank right through her. I screamed my distress, not able to form words, just notes of pure panic.

My mum finally opened her mouth and let out a long, lasting cry of agony, it reverberated off the walls. I half-expected the huge window to shatter. I hoped it did. I hoped that Voldemort would by chance drop his wand and tumble off and fall to his much deserved death.

Bellatrix was laughing wildly, enjoying my mother's pain. I looked at Voldemort. He had a frown etched onto his features. I was surprised that he didn't relish this torture, as Bella did. I was surprised he wasn't laughing sadistically, too. I wanted to kill him. I wanted to wrap my hands around his throat and squeeze until the life flickered and died in those horrible red eyes. I had never felt such a strong surge of hatred before, not for Potter, not for Granger, not for anyone.

They say that your name is your virtue. If that is so, Voldemort had best sleep with his eyes open, because my name is Violent Black. _One day, he is going to stare at me with fear_, I swore to myself. _He is going to feel every second of the pain he caused Mum and me. And he is going to feel it a hundred times worse._

Finally, after what seemed like hours of screaming, he gestured for Bellatrix to stop. He told her to leave. My mother was slumped on the ground like a ragdoll, a child's abandoned plaything.

"Get up, Callista," he said slowly. "You have been my closest follower, my strongest ally all these years. I will allow you the honour of dying on your feet in an act of defiance, rather than cowering at my toes. That would be ill-fitting for a woman of your calibre. Get up."

My mother hauled herself to her feet, crying out from the pain that was still sizzling through her body.

"I shall not draw this out, my darling," he said softly. "This is a black day for the both of us."

Voldemort stepped forward. He pulled my mother into a tight embrace, which, to my surprise, she returned. I watched them, my tears stopping for a moment, my jaw dropping in shock. I didn't think they were this close.

"Goodbye, Tom," she whispered. "Make sure Miriam-Rose stays with Narcissa. Tell her Mamma loves her. Take care of Violent, she's innocent and knows nothing of what I've done. Don't tell her how I died. I don't want her to have to think about it more than necessary."

He nodded, stepping back. Shit, I'd forgotten about Miriam-Rose, my half-sister. Then I realised that Mum was being very clever. I could see that Voldemort 'cared' for her enough that he would do exactly as she asked. She had just ensured that Narcissa would not be killed. Draco needn't worry about his mother anymore. I can't say the same for myself though...

"I will honour you with a funeral pyre fit for a Queen of the Dark, my darling," he said, once more drawing his wand. Callista raised her head proudly. "I hope you find your Sirius, wherever you may travel."

I tried to pull her away, to take her from this foul place of death. But my hands would not rest upon her skin. They sunk right through. I cried out in horror.

"I don't want to see anymore!" I yelled frantically at the ceiling, hoping that Dumbledore or Snape would miraculously hear me and fish me out of this nightmare. "Help! Get me out! I made a mistake - I _can't_ watch this!"

I stared at her olive eyes, trying to make her see me.

"Mum! Mamma, please! Run!" I yelled in her face. Her beautiful greeny-brown eyes looked so peaceful.

Voldemort whipped his wand through the air. It was a non-verbal spell, but I recognised the hand gesture. Fuck! No! Fiendfyre!

From his wand blasted a tidal wave of flame. I had to raise my hand to keep it from blinding me with the brilliant reds, oranges and yellows.

Voldemort said goodbye on last time and stepped backwards, apparating from the room. I was screaming now, my tears flowing, still trying to tell my mother to run. But it was just a memory. It had already happened. There was nothing I could do. In the flames, I could see vague outlines of creatures - dragons, chimeras, serpents and griffins - all racing towards us in a surge of heat and light.

"Help us!" I screamed at the horrified Snape, poised at the door, ready to apparate as soon as the flames became too much. They were nearly upon Callista and I. It was strange. I could feel the intense heat on my skin, but it wasn't painful, it didn't burn. It was just heat.

I turned back to my mother. Her rosebud lips were curved in the most joyful of smiles. I had no doubt that she was thinking of Sirius. Of Dad. Like Voldemort, I hoped that she found him, somewhere.

"I'll find you one day!" I told her. "I love you, Mum! Tell Dad I love him, too..."

And the fire engulfed us. I had to close my eyes. I couldn't bear to watch my mother crumble to ashes in front of me. I couldn't. I fell; my mind was unable to tell my legs to continue to hold me up. I lay on the floor, sobbing and gasping, my arms over my head as the fire burned her.

Callista didn't scream. I'd like to think that she kept that beautiful smile on her face until the very last nanosecond because I hoped that the moment she entered Heaven, and my dad was there waiting for her, that he would see that blissful smile. Even in all of Heaven, I knew there wasn't a smile as magnificently radiant as Callista Faithe's when she was thinking of Sirius Black.

Suddenly, I felt a tugging feeling in the pit of my stomach. I forced myself to remove my arms from my eyes. The fire was still there, I couldn't see anything else. Mum was gone, long since burnt to ashes. The room was fading, the memory was finished, Snape had apparated.

I found myself moments later, back in Dumbledore's study. I was crying openly now, unable to hold back the sobs that were shaking my entire being. It hurt so much. All of me hurt.

It hurt so much. I felt myself collapse, fall to a heap on the floor. Merlin, I was sick of falling. It was like every time I tried to get back up, someone pushed me down again. But this time I didn't want to get back up. All I could feel was sadness and loss. And then, I felt no more.

~xox~

Awake.

The pain enveloped me again. I felt someone's arms around me, but I couldn't see through the tears that were now pouring down my face. I was pulled into their lap, and I could hear their soothing voice in my ear, telling me it was alright. That she's at peace now. God, I wish I was at peace. It sounds so... calm. They were stroking my hair and it felt good.

Draco.

I turned my face into his chest, still unable to stop that god-awful sobbing.

"It's okay," he whispered, tightening his grip around my waist. "It's okay."

"She couldn't hear me," I croaked. "I couldn't save her."

"No one could have saved her," he said softly. I could tell by the strain in his muscles that he was uncomfortable, that this wasn't something that he wanted to be doing. But I didn't care. I needed him to be here, with me.

I managed to wipe some of the liquid from my eyes, enough so that I could see that I was no longer in the Headmaster's study. I was held tightly in Draco's lap in the empty Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom. Snape was standing by the closed door; the look on his face was one of sadness and regret. I had never seen him wear that expression before. It was confusing.

"You fainted," he explained, noticing my gaze. "Mr Malfoy found me carrying you to the Hospital Wing. He would not let me take you there."

I nodded. I didn't want a hospital. I wanted my mother. But the horrible truth about life is that you don't usually get what you want.

"Thanks," I whispered.

"You have been excused from classes for the rest of the week," said Snape. "There is a funeral service on Monday. It is being held in Kingfisher Meadows, where your mother and... father used to live."

I nodded dumbly. "Why couldn't you save her?"

Snape sighed. "Would it have made a difference? She would have been killed had I intervened or not."

I already knew this was true, so I didn't argue with him. "Was Mum and him always that... close?"

Snape nodded. "Yes, the Dark Lord trusted her inexplicably. She knew about his entire life, everything from childhood to where he is today. She knew him better than anyone, a true friend."

"A person like that doesn't have friends," I muttered.

"Perhaps," shrugged Snape. "And I have something for you."

He came forward, away from the door. I managed to get to my feet, but I was still sobbing and trembling so much that Draco had to steady me. Snape handed me a silver ring. Set in it was a small topaz stone. The ring was quite bulky-looking. I stared at the pattern outlining it. Those snakes choking that little heart. I had forgotten to ask about it.

"Callista made that, as well as the necklace around your neck. It was her symbol after she joined the Dark Lord. It was appropriate," he said. "I went back to what was left of the castle. I found where," he swallowed, "Where it happened. I put what was left of your mother's ashes in that ring. You can toss it if you don't want it, but I thought you should have the choice."

I undid the clasp around my neck and slipped the ring onto the necklace, to rest beside the pendant. "Thank you," I said to Snape gratefully. I redid the clip and stared at the piece of jewellery that rested upon my collarbone.

Snape nodded. "Professor Dumbledore has opened a Floo for you in his office. Whenever you are ready this evening, you may depart to Malfoy Manor with Draco. Narcissa wishes for your input for the funeral service."

I nodded. "Where's Miriam-Rose?"

"With Narcissa. The Dark Lord had her delivered directly... after. She's okay."

I nodded again, and made my way to the door, relying on Draco too much for my liking. He stayed next me, a tight grip on my shoulder, for the whole trek to Gryffindor Tower. I spoke the password when we reached the Fat Lady, not really giving a shit if the Slytherin Prince heard me.

"Thanks," I whispered. "Are we going tonight?"

He nodded. "I'll meet you just here in an hour, alright?"

I said I would and stepped inside. It was four o'clock. Classes were over and the Gryffindors were hanging in the commonroom, waiting for dinner. I didn't pay any attention to them.

"Hey, Vi!" called Dean as I walked past. I didn't stop. I made no motion to let him know that I'd heard. I went straight up to the Girls' Sixth. To my annoyance, it was full. Except for Parvati, all the Sixth Year girls were there. Even Granger. Teag immediately noticed something was not right. Whether it was my expression, my wet cheeks or my trembling limbs, I wasn't sure. Perhaps it was all of them.

"Vi? Oh my God, are you okay?" she asked, already at my side.

I shook my head, my tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth and my throat painful from the sobbing.

"What's wrong with her?" I heard Lavender ask. They watched me as Teag led me straight to the bathroom.

Tegs didn't ask again what was wrong. She knew that if I wanted her to know, I would tell her. I hadn't yet decided what to say. Or even if I wanted to say it. She pushed me towards the sink to wash my face, but I kept walking, straight to the toilet.

I threw up a couple of times and dry-retched the rest. Lavender and Granger hovered by the door. I could hear them whispering, but I didn't care. Teag rubbed my back as I wiped the vomit from my chin. I cleaned my teeth because I couldn't stand the taste of the bitter bile. I was shivering when I walked back out.

I sat on my bed. I was in shock. Teagan knelt at my feet, holding my hands in hers. She rubbed circles on my palms with her thumbs. It felt good. I couldn't bring myself to ask her stop, even though her warm touch sent tremors if mistrust through me. That's what I didn't understand. I didn't know what to say to Teagan.

Granger, noticing the goose-flesh on my skin and the vicious shivers that were racking my body, pointed her wand at the small fireplace in the corner of the room and swished the piece of wood.

The flames ignited on the small pile of kindling and I screamed. I screamed bloody murder. I threw myself on the floor, twisting in horror, begging her to put it out. It was too close to what my memory held.

She put out the fire immediately. "I'm sorry," she said, biting her lip in remorse. "I didn't mean to upset you."

"It's okay," I whispered. "It's okay." I think I was saying it more to myself than to Hermione.

I released a shaky breath and stood up. I went to my wardrobe and began pulling out clothes at random, tossing them onto my bed. When I had a pile that seemed big enough to last me a few days, I transferred them into my empty trunk. I changed out of my uniform into a pair of too-big jeans and pulled a ratty old hoodie on over my singlet.

"Where are you going?" asked Lavender. "We have school. Classes..."

What a Granger thing to say.

"Vi, what happened?" asked Teag again. "Tell us. We can help you."

I laughed bitterly at this, the tears once again finding passage from the corners of my eyes. Dammit. Now I'm not going to be able to stop them...

"Tell us," Teag urged. "Or just me. Tell _someone_."

I don't know what made me do it. Perhaps someone was hiding under the bed and had imperiused me. I didn't care. I didn't feel. I just... didn't anything. "My mother is dead."

Silence. Beautiful silence. Or it was beautiful, until Granger broke it. "Violent, I'm so sorry."

Lavender offered her condolences as well. I didn't say anything. What was I meant to say? Thanks? I wasn't thankful. I was as far from thankful right now as Draco Malfoy would be from an angry hippogriff.

Teagan hugged me, crying openly herself. I was shocked. She was crying at my pain, not her own. I had never known this type of... selflessness before.

"What happened to her?" she asked through her sobs.

"Killed," I said. "Death Eaters. The papers hushed it up."

"Shit," muttered Lavender. "Sincerest apologies to your family, Violent." And then she left the room.

Ha ha. Sure, my family were the ones who killed her. The funeral was going to be a farce. They all knew what had happened. Miriam-Rose and I were going to be the only sincere mourners there and it was pathetic.

"I'm going to stay with my family for week," I choked out. "Make funeral arrangements. I'll be back on Tuesday."

"Do you need help?" asked Teag. "I can take you to where you need to Floo, if you want?"

I shook my head. "Thanks, but I don't want... I don't..."

"Sh, it's fine," soothed Teag. I was crying again and I couldn't finish the sentence. I hadn't cried this much in my life. "Are you going now?"

I nodded.

"Here," said Granger. "I'll take your trunk downstairs, shall I?"

"Thanks," I whispered. Why was she being nice to me? I was always horrible to her. Damn, I hated pity. I hated _her_ pity.

Teag lead me down the stairs into the commonroom, Granger just ahead of us, levitating my trunk. Everybody fell silent as soon as I set foot in the spacious room. They stared openly. I saw Lavender in the corner beside Parvati. Damn her! Just how loud did she have to say it?

Neville Longbottom came straight towards me. "I'm so sorry," he said sincerely. "I hope you're okay."

"Thanks, Neville," I said. I had always liked him. No idea why.

Dean and Seamus came up next to give their condolences and then Parvati. Ginny Weasley gave me a hug. I remember in Second Year when she used to cry on my shoulder most nights. I was the only one who knew about the bloody diary and its piece of Voldemort's soul. And I couldn't say a word.

Teagan swept me into the tightest of embraces when we reached the portrait hole. Granger set down my trunk. I pushed open the picture frame, grabbing the handle of the piece of luggage (because I was so magically defected and couldn't cast a decent _wingardium leviosa_ to save my life) and began hauling it out of the commonroom after me.

I heard the click as the picture swung closed. The Fat Lady called out to me, "I'm sorry for your loss," as I walked away, towards the pale figure of Draco Malfoy, waiting by the stairs.

"Hey," he said when he saw me. "You alright?"

I laughed/choked. "No. But let's go."

We walked in silence (except for when he levitated my trunk for me, shaking his head at my lack of magical talent) all the way to Dumbledore's study. I knew Draco was tense about being there, but he didn't have a choice. He was expected to attend the funeral as well.

I didn't say much to Dumbledore when I arrived. I kept my eyes averted, not wanting him to see my current state of distress. I knew he'd ask to see me when I got back. I stepped into the fireplace, after Draco had told Dumbledore that my family was picking me up from his place, and dropped the green powder, saying, "Malfoy Manor!"

But I forgot about the fire part. I screamed and cried out in horror at the surge of flame and leapt back out of the fireplace and into the arms of Albus Dumbledore before it could magic me away to the Malfoy residence.

I was breathing heavily. Dumbledore set me in one of the chairs by his desk.

"What's wrong with her?"demanded Draco.

"Snape didn't tell you?" Malfoy shook his head in confusion. Dumbledore sighed. "She asked to see it. The memory. She used my Pensieve."

Malfoy looked horrified. "Why would she -? But what's with the screaming now, then?"

"Mr Malfoy, Callista Selwyn was burnt alive with Fiendfyre. Violent's reaction is quite understandable."

Malfoy swallowed thickly. "Oh."

I whimpered at the reminder.

"I'm sorry, Violent," Dumbledore apologised. "I'll have one of the teachers escort you to Hogsmeade. And I shall contact Mrs Malfoy to come and collect you. Is that desirable?"

I nodded. I hated to cause extra trouble (not sure when this started though, I would normally love to cause trouble) but I couldn't bear stepping into that fireplace. Not after I saw what happened to my mother. I don't think I'll ever be able to go near an open flame again.

Broken. I was broken.

Voldemort had shattered me and he didn't even know. He'd taken from me my own mother. He'd taken my father as well. I would make sure he took me, too, but only after I had exacted my revenge.

I don't think revenge tastes that sweet. But nothing is sweet these days. All I could taste is the bile in the back of my throat, all I could feel is heat and all I could see was all-consuming fire. I was in a blind rage, and I felt like my name. Violent. I was so close to lashing out. But I would rein it in. I was going to control this anger, this fury. It was a weapon that I would someday use.

I may be teenage girl, naive and misunderstood, I may not be more than a child, incapable of understanding the reason for murder, I may be a Death Eater, expected to kill on the whim of a madman. I may or may not be all of those things, but I assure you, I'm Violent Black and I will have my revenge.

And I like my steak bloody.

**AN: Gah! I'll freely admit it - I bawled my eyes out while I was writing this chapter, it was so sad! My brother came in and was like, "What the hell are you doing? You _do_ realise that laptops aren't water-resitant?" Haha.**

**I feel like I need to explain Voldemort's reaction. I know that in the books he has no friends and that Dumbledore makes this fact very clear. This makes me a little grmpy because darling Albus didn't know him well enough to make such an assumption. But then again, in the books Voldemort didn't have someone like Callista to become dependant upon. And in this story, he relied on her greatly - she was his right-hand. A "true friend", like Snape said. I'm sure he was very upset about her death but was so set in his rules and his very peronality that he couldn't bend or make exceptions to save his 'darling'. Nearly broke my heart, the bastard. Yes, I talk to my fictional characters a lot and I'll thank you not to tease me.**

Yeah. I finally set an ending for the sequel. I'm not going to tell you what it is, but it was a toss-up between a very, very, excrutiatingly sad or a very, very, joyfully happy ending. So you can guess all you like, I'm not telling anybody. You can, however, tell me if you want the sad one or the happy one in the review. You never know, I might cange my mind at the last minute - the story is still open ended so that it can go either way. Maybe I'll post both endings, huh? Tell me what you think in a REVIEW!

**I hope I didn't make you cry too much (*sobs*) but if I did, I'm very sorry. Sniff. Sniff. Please review, they inspire me to keep writing! I apologise for the painfully long authors note as well...**

**xx xx**


	10. Chapter 9

** Violent Deception**

**C****hapter Nine**

"Miss Black," squeaked the disgusting elf. "Mistress wisheses you to meets her in the foyer in fifteen minuteses. She's wants to takeses you to dinner, Miss."

I growled my agreement to the revolting wretch before me and once more crawled under the sheets. I had arrived at Malfoy Manor Thursday evening. It was now Wednesday afternoon. I had been asleep in my room since I got here. I had never slept in past daybreak before. It was off knowing that the sun had risen and set once more in the time I had been unconscious.

I was grateful for the sleep though. I didn't think I would have been able to sleep so easily. I thought I would be plagued by dreams of rushing fire and screams of pain. I have a feeling Narcissa slipped me a dreamless sleep potion though.

"Violent?" I heard a tentative voice ask from beside me. I grumbled lightly but did not open my eyes. Narcissa could take her fifteen minutes and shove them up her - "Violent, are you 'wake?"

Oh Merlin, had Pansy Parkinson and her Baby Talk returned? Wait, it sounded like...

"Miriam-Rose?" I asked groggily, sitting up. It came out like, "_Miramose_." The four year old was kneeling at the foot of my enormous bed. Her golden curls were messy and her big blue eyes were bloodshot and watery. I sighed and held my arms out to her. The little girl, my half-sister, crawled up the length of the bed and collapsed onto my lap, in a fit of unsuppressed sorrow. God, did I look like that when I cried?

I didn't bother comforting her, not quite knowing how. I just let her sob on my chest, mumbling to herself, "Mamma's gone, mamma's gone..."

"My mother is waiting for you," my head flicked up at the sound of Draco's voice. "You'd best dress at lightning speed."

I gestured to the crying child in my lap with an expression of annoyance and confusion. Draco rolled his eyes and came over to my bedside. I eyed him with mistrust. What? What normal person would trust having the Slytherin Stud in their rooms, while in minimal clothing? Not me. But I knew he wouldn't comment. I was grieving after all.

"Nice shorts."

Okay... So I was wrong.

"Fuck off. Take her will you? I have to go."

He nodded and pried Miriam-Rose out of my arms, a look of intense distaste on his pointed face. I hurried to the bathroom, trying to shake off the last remnants of sleep.

I groaned, when I reached my cupboard. The restaurant Narcissa was likely to take me to was not one I felt comfortable dressing for. With a scowl, I yanked on the ruby gown that she had had delivered. It looked pretty good on me, I must say. It itched like hell, though. The red contrasted brilliantly with my straight black hair and pale skin. The scarlet dress was backless, with loose sleeves that were split at the sides to billow about my arms; it was deep around my not-quite-there bust and tight from my waist to my knees where it flared out in a fish-tail. I could barely walk in the stupid thing. I'm sure if I were to raise my arms in a gust of wind, the entire evil contraption would have similar effects to a muggle parachute.

I threw a long, black muggle trench-coat on over the top, to hide the hideousness of the gown. I pretty much lived in trench coats during the holidays. It was horrible walking about in the lavish gowns Narcissa dressed me in.

I left my wardrobe to find Draco still on my bed with a crying Miriam-Rose. He shot me a pain-filled grimace but did not stop me from leaving the room. I was going to have to re-think my version of him as a heartless dickhead. Maybe he had a heart, and he was just a dickhead.

I walked calmly through the dimly lit corridors of the Manor, not really giving a damn about how long it took.

I suppose my reaction to my mother's murder is confusing. I felt the ache, the loss, the emptiness and the all consuming grief, but I couldn't display it. I guess I'd always been this way, afraid to show emotions that depicted weakness.

Guilt.

Love.

Loss.

My mother was gone. She'd died to protect me, to get me away from this mess we'd tangled ourselves in. I felt selfish. Even though I had never asked her to die for me, I hadn't really given her any other choice. You remember the weak emotions I mentioned up there? At the moment, all I could feel was them. Guilt, that it was my fault. Love, that my mother cared for me so much that she sacrificed her life so that I could live a better one. Loss, because she wasn't here anymore. I was completely alone.

It's strange because I had always been alone. I just felt it more keenly now. It was only this year that I had regained my trust in my mother. It was only this year that our relationship had been mended and reforged. And now it was all gone. Nothing left but a bit of ash contained in a ring held around my neck.

"Ah, Violent!" exclaimed Narcissa from below me. I had just reached the stairs. "Thank you for being prompt."

I inclined my head, not trusting myself to speak. I could see her eyeing the muggle coat with distaste, but she wiped the look from her face as I walked slowly down the stairs, giving my best shot at _not_ being prompt.

"So, I've booked us an alcove at _Derminio_, in London," she prattled, clasping my elbow once I had descended the stairs. "It'll be very private," she assured me, leading me to the foyer.

"What are we doing there, exactly?" I asked dully.

Narcissa did look a little uncomfortable herself. "Making funeral arrangements and going over the will."

I nodded and she side-along apparated me directly to the door of the restaurant. I could see the fancy scrawl, _Derminio_, on a sign above the entrance. I took a breath and stepped inside.

The room was crowded. There were people everywhere, laughing, talking. There even looked to be a couple breaking up at the table near the bar, judging by the tears. Narcissa waited for the maître d' to address us.

"How may I help you today, Madam?" asked the portly looking man. His suit looked a few sizes too tight. I opened my mouth going to tell him so but Narcissa cut me off.

"A reservation for Malfoy, upstairs," she said briskly.

The man ran a finger over his moustache as he consulted his booking schedule. "Ah yes. The entire upstairs floor has been booked, correct?" Narcissa nodded primly. She may be annoying, but I did admire her poise. "If you'll follow me, Madam."

He led us up a flight of stairs and into a large, spacious room. The floating candles emitted a dull red light. It would have been depressing in another room. But here it matched the cherry wood and cream painted walls exquisitely. Not that I knew much about interior design or anything.

He seated us, took my coat and placed two menus on the table before backing away, saying, "Your server will be with you shortly..."

Narcissa waited for him to leave the room before turning to me. "Okay, Violent. Would you like to know what I have already planned?"

I nodded.

"Joseph Selwyn, your step uncle, has declared that we are permitted to bury Callista in the family cemetery. I think it is highly appropriate as her husband is already buried there."

Bury? But she'd been burnt to dust... my fingers traced the ring that held my mother's ashes.

"I was also thinking that a dusk service would be nice, to symbolise the end of her life. The colours are beautiful in Aberaeron. A traditional service would be ideal, I think, and I know a lovely florist. A few dear friends and relatives will be invited to speak about Callista's life and the experiences they shared with her. I was considering asking Bellatrix, Joseph and you to speak. Perhaps Miriam-Rose, if she felt up to it."

Was she insane? Did she know how my mother had died? Obviously not. Judging by the arrangements she'd made, Narcissa Malfoy had not known my mother all that well. In fact, I don't think anyone did. But I didn't blame Narcissa for her assumptions. I knew she well and truly wanted a nice service for Callista.

"Am I allowed to make any changes to that plan?"

Narcissa looked horrified. "Of course you are, dear! Merlin, the Dark Lord specifically requested that you had utmost control! I just thought that you might be a little too... overwhelmed and upset to think much about it. Are there any changes you'd like?"

I nodded quickly, tucking my hair behind my ears. "Yeah. Not at the Selwyns. I want her buried in the Black Cemetery. Next to my dad."

Narcissa's face fell. After all, Sirius Black hadn't exactly been on the Dark Side. "Are you sure? It's -"

"I'm sure," I interrupted her. "It has to be there. And not at dusk. I want a dawn service. And I don't want anyone to talk or speak or any eulogies or nothing. Callista valued her privacy and doesn't want people chattering about her experiences as if they knew her well."

Narcissa was quiet a moment. She sighed. "I'll have to check the bit about the Black Cemetery with Bella. It's okay with me, but as the other Black daughter, she does have a say. And I don't think she'll be too pleased. She has it in her head that she's doing the eulogy."

Bellatrix could shove that eulogy up her arse for all I cared.

"Dark Lord said I had utmost control, right? Whatever I wanted?" Narcissa nodded. "This is what I want."

"Okay. Okay. I'll organise it."

At that moment a young red-head stepped into the room. She wore a black apron and smart black pants and I could only assume she was our server. She came over to our table and pulled out her notepad.

"Good evening, my name is Layla. Can I get you anything to drink?"

Narcissa listed some fancy sounding French wine and I asked for water. The waitress disappeared and we waited in silence until she brought our beverages.

"Violent, there is also a problem with the Will," she cleared her throat and took a sip of wine. I nodded at her to continue. "Miriam-Rose had been left in the guardian-ship of Joseph Selwyn and me; I am to be the primary carer."

"Alright. What's the problem there?"

"As you aren't of age yet, your mother had to name a guardian for you too."

I raised an eyebrow. "Wouldn't it be you and Joseph as well?"

The blonde woman sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "No. Callista has named Remus Lupin as your guardian until you turn seventeen in August."

"Professor Lupin?" I asked in surprise. Then I laughed. "Why would Professor Lupin be _my_ guardian?"

"Lupin was one of your father's best friends at school."

Oh.

"But, Lupin works for _them_!"

"I know. I only received the Will this morning and I read it just before you came downstairs. I'm dealing with it, don't worry."

My eyes were wide with confusion and... relief. Lupin could help me. I had never considered him as an ally. I had always thought my options were Potter, Dumbledore and the Aurors. _Lupin could save me..._

"Does he know?"

Narcissa nodded. "Yes, he will have been informed of your mother's passing and that he is now the guardian of her daughter."

I was still staring at her in shock. "Does he know who I am? My name? My father?"

"No. He doesn't know anything. And we intend to keep it that way."

Of course they did. They intended to keep me away from everyone that could sway me to the other side. But was that what I wanted? Of course not. The bastards didn't care what I wanted.

I was about to demand that I see him, but closed my mouth and decided it would be best if I thought about it first, even discussed it with Dumbledore, perhaps.

I took a breath. This was all so difficult. I really wanted to find myself a nice quiet room and ball my eyes out for a while.

I had just lost my mother to a sadistic, evil monster intent on destroying humanity and yet, my life just develops more obstacles. Like I need them. Remus Lupin is my guardian. One of my father's best friends, a member of the Order of the Phoenix is my guardian. Well, fuck me sideways if this mess just isn't a little complicated.

"Okay, Narcissa," I sighed heavily. I didn't look up. The bone-white table cloth was just too interesting to direct my much wanted attention from. "When is it?"

"The funeral? Two days. I think everyone wants this..."

"All tidied up?" I asked, a hint of anger in my tone. Of course they did. They didn't want any more reason to ponder the murder of one of the Dark Lord's most trusted servants. "Tell me, how did she die?" I really wanted to know what story they put out.

"Bellatrix said the Aurors killed her," said Narcissa, swallowing deeply. "They came to the base - must have been tipped off - and murdered her. Avada Kedavra."

I nodded and stood up, leaving the restaurant, my blood red gown flowing about me. I looked like a goddess of destruction. And that's how I felt right at that moment - destructive.

I felt sorry for Miriam-Rose. She was too little to understand that she was growing up - and loving - people that were the epitome of evil. She didn't know that her mother had been burnt to ash for trying to save her daughter. And she wouldn't ever know.

Callista would fade from Miriam-Rose's four-year-old memory like dust on the wind. But I wouldn't forget. I wasn't that lucky. I would, however, exact my revenge. I just had to be careful how I went about it.

I realised I had no way to get home by the time I had gotten down the stairs. I wasn't going to swallow my pride and allow Narcissa to side-along me back to Malfoy Manor. And I was too young to apparate myself. I thought about Floo-powder, but really, did I want to go back anyway? And besides, it seems that I now have an irrational fear of fire. It was going to make getting around so much more annoying.

I would rather be anywhere in the world than have to face people that faked sympathy over my mother's pretend murder.

I stalked toward the maître d' and demanded to use the Floo grate. His moustache twitched as if my harsh tone but he led me to the fireplace without mentioning it. He handed me my coat, which I shrugged back on, knowing that it would be cold outside and thanked him for his services. I took a handful of green powder and tossed it to floor, saying loudly, "Spinner's End!"

I restrained myself from shrieking as the flames engulfed me, but I couldn't hold in the pitiful whimper as I threw my arms over my face and crouched in the embers, praying that it would end...

~xox~

Yeah. You _know_ your life is fucked well and proper when you have no one but Severus Snape to turn to for advice. I stepped out of the fireplace, still breathing heavily and hobbled - this dress made walking difficult - out of the empty muggle house I had stepped into. I wondered who connected it to the Floo network. Probably the Death Eaters. It would be suss if people like Greyback and Lucius were constantly Flooing to Severus Snape's home. I trekked down the disgusting street to the Snape residence. The gutters were filled with muck and rubbish and it was dark out, lending the foul street an eerie glow. I half expected a wolf to howl or something... it was straight out of a muggle horror-film.

I knocked on the door of the hovel at the very end of the dirty street. I nearly fell out of my dress when Wormtail answered. He would have _loved_ it, the filthy paedophile.

"Ah, Wormtail," I greeted him, slipping off my coat and dumping it in his arms. He looked shocked to see me, shocked enough that he took my trench without complaint. "Won't you be a dear and inform my lovely Professor that his favourite student is here for a quick chat?" I asked him in the most condescending tone I could muster. I knew full well that this man had been friends with my father and... erm, guardian. And I hated him for it. I hated him like I hated Potter - he had stolen a piece of Sirius Black's attention, too.

Pettigrew scurried - really, there was no other word to describe it - off to find Snape. I let myself into the house and found my way to what _looked_ to be a sitting room. There weren't any pictures, no forms of decoration at all. The once white walls were grey and moulding and covered with shelves of books. The only furniture was a decaying old table and a threadbare sofa.

"Miss Faithe, to what do I owe the... pleasure?" I turned around to see my hook-nosed teacher swoop into the room like a great bird of prey. Really, the man resembled a vulture so much that it wasn't even funny anymore...

"Professor," I inclined my head at him regally, implying - very subtly, of course - that I was above him. He must have picked up on it, the sensitive man he is, as his lip curled in anger. "I was wondering if I could talk to you?"

"Well, you are obviously here and no doubt have no intention of leaving until we talk so... take a seat."

I smiled at him. It didn't work. It came out as a mere twitch of the lips. "Wormtail, if you would be so kind as to go and lock yourself in the boiler room until I leave, I would very much appreciate it." He took the hint and scurried off into the depths of the disgusting house.

"My mother died." Yep, that's me, Violent Black, the epitome of tact and diplomacy. Okay, so I wasn't quite sure how to start off.

"I think we've covered that I am already aware of your mother's passing, Violent."

"Yeah. I guess. Did you hear about the will?" I pressed on without waiting for an answer. "She named Professor Lupin as my guardian until I come of age."

Snape stared at me, horror and anger flitting across his face like a scene from _Dance of the Butterflies_. Not that I'd compare Snape's moods to the movements of innocent, winged creatures such as butterflies. But then again, I know a gal with some pretty intense opinions on the natures of butterflies... (**AN: no one but hannahmeh will get that. Sorry.**)

"Professor Lupin? As in, _Remus Lupin_?"

Wasn't Professor Snape meant to be mildly intelligent? What other Lupin did I know?

"Yes. He's been named my guardian. Narcissa wants me never to see him. That he'll sway me to the light with false hopes of glory and happiness. Blah, blah, blah. Anyway, I wanted to ask you something."

"You can ask..." he responded, but I heard the unspoken, "_but whether I'll answer..._"

I breathed out. Time to make use of the over-utilised and totally cliché line: _here goes nothing_. "Whose side are you on, Severus? - Do you mind if I call you Severus? - Because I'm a little confused. Dumbledore thinks you're his little pet, and the Dark Lord and co. think that your his number one thuper thpethial little guy." And yes, I said that with a lisp.

Snape stared at me. "And whose side are you on Violent Black? I think that is a more appropriate question."

I raised my eyebrows. "How could it be more appropriate? It's the exact same question _I_ asked. And seeing as I asked first..."

Snape sighed and I thought he wasn't going to answer for a minute.

"What do you need that it matters what side I am on?"

"Someone to talk to. Someone in my position. Someone I can trust." I stared at him. If he really was Dumbledore's man, then at least I wouldn't be alone. I was making contingency plans. I needed someone to look out for me now that my mother is gone. I know it sounds cruel and harsh that I'm automatically looking for someone else to turn to, but what else could I do?

_I don't want to always be alone..._

And Callista wouldn't want that for me either.

"Whose side I am on does not come into question, then, Violent. I will advise you, talk to you," he said slowly. "I will help you no matter which side you choose."

I breathed out in relief, tears springing to the back of my eyes. "Thank you," I whispered before I stood up and wrapped my arms around his stiff shoulders.

Snape froze in horror as I hugged him. I wasn't really the hugging type, and it felt terribly awkward, but I had no idea what else to do and it just... came over me. I apologised to him as I pulled away. He curtly nodded his head but said nothing.

"You should see the Headmaster when you get back, Violent," said my new confidante as I collected my coat from the rack at the door Wormtail had hung it on. "Ask him if you should see Lupin."

"I will, thank you, Severus," I smiled slightly at him before walking out. I could have asked to use his fireplace, but I still was not ready to go home. And I really didn't want to use a fireplace anyway.

I walked down the desolate street, kicking empty beer bottles against the gutter as I trudged. It was not long before I stumbled upon a small, unkempt park. I turned into it. It was barely viewable from the road, as the trees and grass were so overgrown, it was hard to make it into the little clearing. There was a rusty swingset and broken slippery slide and I couldn't help but wonder if Snape had spent his childhood here.

I sat down, not giving a rat's arse if the wet grass ruined my dress, against the trunk of an old, rotting tree. I ran my fingers over the rough wood, thinking that I should like to stay here, just for a little while.

It was peaceful. And I didn't want to ever go back to reality. My mother is dead, my father is dead, my friend will probably soon be dead and I'll most likely follow him. Ah, the simplicity of life. At least, it was simple when I broke it down like that. I don't understand why I am worrying when I think of it that way. I mean, we're basically too dead to care about all the complexities in the end, aren't we?

I laughed out loud at the sheer thought of it. What does it matter that my life is fucked? I'm going to die soon anyway. There's no _point_ worrying about the future.

My fingers ran over a rough patch in the bark of the tree. I turned my face to it, trying to decipher the age-old letters somebody had scrawled there. _Lily + Sev_.

I smiled. Maybe Severus had come here as a boy, after all. It didn't seem like a bad place to waste away the days. Lily. It sounded familiar.

_"...Especially after what happened to Lily..."_

_"Lily?"_

_"Severus was at school with us. He was in love with Lily Evans, Potter's mother. And the Dark Lord killed her. He hasn't been the same since."_

I remembered the conversation. I wondered if this person was Lily Evans. Maybe it was. I felt sorry for Snape and his broken heart.

Severus and Lily.

Callista and Sirius.

Violent and Draco.

All love stories destined to have painfully unhappy endings. Lily had been killed at the hands of the man Severus had thought God. Sirius had been murdered by his cousin, Callista's best friend. And Violent was going to be murdered for not being able to murder Draco who will also be murdered for not being able to murder Dumbledore. Whoa... too much third person for me.

I dimly wondered why I had paired me and Draco into the collection of tragic romances as we were not _in love_. We comforted each other and that was _it_.

Well, maybe I knew it wasn't _it_. But I think I might be too afraid to find out if _it_ was something else entirely. And I was afraid that if I enjoyed the new _it_ too much, it was only going to hurt more when we were killed.

Alright, so I've developed a new codeword for me and Draco's, erm, relationship. Said relationship shall now be referred to as _it_.

I leaned back against the tree, letting my eyes drift closed. It was so comforting to just sleep here. It was quiet and peaceful and I didn't ever want to leave and return my normal state of confusion, hatred and panic.

~xox~

I woke at dawn and felt a rush of pity - no doubt Narcissa had been out all night looking for me. She was probably worried I was suicidal or something. Hm, I hadn't actually thought of suicide yet. Mental note: consider killing myself - it would make everything _so_ much easier.

I walked quickly to Snape's, who was very surprised to see me, and begged him to side-along apparate me back to the Malfoy's. As expected, Narcissa was pacing nervously across the foyer. She threw her arms around my neck when she saw me release Snape's arm. Severus nodded at her and disappeared once more.

Narcissa didn't say much. She sensed that I had needed time alone. She sent me to the library. I know! Who would send _me_ to a library? I went anyway - there really wasn't all that much else to do. I needed to eat, having had no food since I left school. Damn, that had been a while ago. I was about to turn around and have a house elf make me some food, but I saw a strange figure crossing the open door to the library. There shouldn't be anyone here but Draco, Miriam-Rose, Narcissa and myself - Lucius being in Azkaban. The figure was much too tall to be either Malfoy. It was also feminine. But the light shining from the open window in library was glary and all I saw was the pacing silhouette. Curiosity won out and I headed inside.

"Ah, Violent!" I recognised the voice immediately and my throat closed up in unease. Aunt Bellatrix.

"Hello, Bella," I said dully. I could feel my stomach acids trying to digest my sunken heart.

"My condolences for your loss," she said. She didn't look sorry at all. She looked... excited. "Callista was a dear friend to me."

_And yet you tortured her and allowed her to be brutally murdered... Some friend._

"Thank you," I responded stiffly. Bellatrix Lestrange was not one to cross. She was as bi-polar as Voldemort suffering PMS and was likely to physically tear your external limbs off as soon as smile at you.

"I spoke to Narcissa. I understand that you do not wish anyone to speak at the funeral. I did, however, take the liberty of moving it forward to tomorrow at dawn. It's much more convenient for everyone involved."

My eyebrows shot upwards in anger. This was Bellatrix's way of telling me that she has control. I bet she hated the idea that the Dark Lord entrusted the management of mum's funeral to me, her daughter, rather than Bellatrix. Well, suck it, bitch!

"More convenient? For whom, Bellatrix? You?" I asked, an evident sneer in my voice. "Because I don't give a flying fuck what you think!"

Her dark eyes widened in fury. "How dare you speak such filth to me?"

"Not only that, but you must be fucking joking if you think you can pull this kind of stunt on _my_ mother's funeral."

She took two steps forward and slapped me across the cheek. It was a whopper. My jaw almost fell off. I knew I would have the handprint for a few days. I flinched and swallowed the blood from where I had bitten my cheek and stared back at her.

"You're your muggle-loving father's daughter, aren't you, Little Black?"

"Well, since you _killed_ him, I can't actually get a paternity test now, can I?" I turned and went straight back the way I came. I was not in the state of mind to fight with Bellatrix Lestrange. I didn't have a death-wish just yet.

"Don't turn your back on me, Violent!" she shrieked at me.

"Fuck it," I called over my shoulder. Then I paused and made a show of reconsidering. "Actually, come to think of it, fuck _you_, Bella. Fuck you to _hell_!"

**AN: Woohoo! New chapter! This is actually Part A. Chapter Nine itself was over ten thousand words, so i've had to split it into two chapters. The next one will be up soon and I promise there will be much more angst and depression for poor Violent. I really torture that girl, don't I? Gee, you know you're going mad when you feel sorry for fictional characters. But then again, most teenage girls _are_ mad - we're all in love with Edward Cullen. Sigh. 3**

There will be a warning on the next chapter, but I'll write it here as well. Chapter ten contains referencing to rape/sexual abuse and if you don't like reading about it... don't read it. it's not very detailed or graphic or anything, but if you can't stand the very idea of it... sorry. :(

**Please review! **

**xx**


	11. Chapter 10

**_Warning: this chapter contains referrences to rape and sexual assault._**

**Violent Deception**

**Chapter Ten**

My mother's funeral was due to start in an hour, thanks to bitch-fuck-from-hell, Bellatrix Lestrange. It was too late to change it, Narcissa had apologised profusely. Draco found my outburst amusing; he had been leaning against the wall for the entirety of his aunt's conversation with me, laughing the entire time. Jerk.

I was waiting for Narcissa in the foyer with Draco. He was dressed to the nines, in expensive black dress robes. I was hiding my dress with a floor length coat I had borrowed from Mrs Malfoy. Narcissa then came down the stairs - after half an hour's wait - leading my half-sister by the hand. Narcissa was wearing a smart black gown and cloak. Like Draco's outfit, it looked very expensive. Miriam-Rose looked too cute, despite the occasion, in a little ebony dress and shoes. Her curly blonde hair was pulled back with a big red ribbon. Narcissa raised an eyebrow at my coat but said nothing. We were travelling in the carriages to the Black Cemetery, as Miriam-Rose was too little for side-along apparition, and because I flat-out refused to travel by Floo.

I sat beside my sister and across from Draco in the spacious carriage. It didn't seem like there was a lot of room, but I wasn't touching anyone and I could easily stretch my legs out. I assumed it had been charmed that way.

"Your cheek is still red," observed Draco from across from me as the carriage began moving.

I nodded. "Bella's a mad bitch," was all I said. Narcissa shot a sharp look at me. I didn't know if it was because of my language or because I was talking about her sister. Draco sniggered.

We didn't talk much on the drive there, except for Narcissa begging me to take my "ridiculous" coat off. I refused.

The walk to the graveside was hard. My breath was short and shallow and my eyes kept watering. I glanced at Miriam-Rose. She was staring at the people surrounding the grave with detachment. Damn, that kid had a poker-face. I couldn't tell what she was thinking or what she understood. Did she know her mum was dead? Did she understand that Callista wasn't going to be there tonight to tuck her in?

The grave was at the end of the lot, on the edge of a small forest reserve. It was still dark as the sun had not yet risen. People - Death Eaters and their families - were filing into the seats that had been set out. I stared at the grave beside my mother's empty one.

_Sirius Black._

_1960 - 1996_

I sighed. I took my place in the front row, placing Miriam-Rose between her uncle, Joseph Selwyn, and me. I shrugged my coat off, smiling slightly at the shocked gasps from the other mourners. My simple dress was a bright fuchsia - Callista's favourite colour. I remember her saying at her husband's funeral how much she hated the tradition of wearing black. The other funeral-goers, the women in particular, eyed me with a mixture of distaste and annoyance. I could hear them all thinking, "That Faithe kid has always been a bit odd..."

_For you, mum._

The man standing beside the grave cleared his throat. I wondered who he was, how he felt about doing a funeral for a Death Eater.

"We gather here today to celebrate the life and passing of Callista Faithe-Selwyn..." And I stopped listening. The words didn't matter to me; they were meaningless. Just cliché babble about how the dead live on in our hearts.

These people don't have hearts. Mine was long ago discarded. I didn't care that, theoretically, this meant that Callista wouldn't truly be remembered. She didn't want to be. She just wanted to spend an eternity with Sirius...

I leaned back in my seat and pulled a hand across my face. This man continued talking about my mother like her knew her personally. No one knew Callista Faithe. Not a single person on this earth knew her. My wet eyes flickered as they caught a burst of movement in the reserve behind the grave. I saw a dark shadow pass through the trees, a ghost, a phantom. It wound its shadowy way about the tree trunks. It slowed when it reached the forest's edge. I stared at it. I knew immediately who it was. It was sad to know that the only one at this funeral who was actually grieving besides my sister and I was the monster who had killed her. But I didn't grudge him that. In fact, for some strange, demented reason, it was soothing. I nodded to him, the Dark Lord, and turned to my sister.

She was sniffling quietly, rubbing her runny nose with the back of her hand. She caught me watching her and smiled weakly. It was hard to believe she was only four years old. I grabbed her hand and squeezed. Her own tightened in reflex. I glanced back up at the forest to find the shadow had gone.

My attention re-focused on the funeral. They were lowering the coffin into the ground. It slowly disappeared from sight. The celebrant invited my sister and me up to toss rose petals into the grave. I led Miriam-Rose by the hand to grave side, grabbed a handful of petals and scattered them gently over the cherry wood of my mother's empty casket. Miriam-Rose did the same. I led her back to her uncle but did not sit down myself.

I walked quickly down the aisle that separated the two groups of erected chairs. I saw a few faces as I walked past: Narcissa looked concerned; Draco looked passive; Bellatrix was glaring daggers at me and Rodolphus smiled sadly.

I kept walking.

Maybe I could walk it all away.

I walked for half an hour, meandering around the woodland, not particularly caring which direction I went in. It was one of those open places in which it was hard to get lost, no matter how hard I tried. Eventually, my legs were aching and twitching, and I decided to walk back to the wake. Narcissa planned it. There was a hall of some sort beside the cemetery where the wakes were usually held. It had an enormous, well-cared for garden at the back.

I sat on one of the stone benches at the very end. I couldn't bear to be in the hall with all the people who had murdered my mother. I sniffed, my eyes filling with salty water. I cried for a few minutes before I heard a rustling in the shrubbery behind me. I stopped sniffling and went absolutely still.

"Hello, Vi-vi!" I heard childish cackle. Vi-vi sounded familiar. I couldn't remember who it was that called me that. The rustling noises in the bushes I heard could not possibly be made by only one man, and sure enough, three stepped out in front of me.

Amycus Carrow, Thorfinn Rowle and Robertus Yaxley. The three lowest, most scum-like Death Eaters I had ever met. Amycus was a dumpy looking man, with big, beady eyes in a small, chubby face. Rowle was his opposite; impossibly tall and thin, with an impressive curling moustache. Yaxley didn't look like anything. He was one of those people that you forget upon seeing, with boring features and nothing stand-out at all about his appearance. Though none of them were exceptionally talented wizards, I still felt intimidated and frightened. I was a grieving and stressed sixteen year old girl, surrounded by three full grown Death Eaters, none with the cleanest of reputations.

"What do you want? Leave me alone," I said with more courage than I felt.

Amycus reached forward and placed his hand on my shoulder. To anyone, it looked like a calming gesture, to me, it was a restraint. His grip was tight, his fingernails pressing into my skin through the thin fabric of my bright dress. In this moment, my fear levels shot straight to hell.

"Let go of me!" I demanded and shook his hand off. It didn't move. While not magically gifted, Carrow was a strong man. All of them were. I suddenly felt terrified, understanding that they hadn't come to kill me...

"Shut up, slut," grunted Rowle. He grabbed my elbow and helped Amycus drag me back into the bushes. I twisted and kicked like a tiger in a cage. I yowled louder than one. My cries were unheard; I was too far from the hall. Yaxley followed from behind as Rowle and Carrow hefted me through the shrubbery. They tossed me on the ground when we were several meters from the view of the clearing in the garden that I had been sitting in.

"What do you want?" I yelled. It sounded like a plea.

I stood up and rushed at them, trying to break through and run back to the hall. Amycus grabbed me around the waist. His filthy hands brushed none too lightly over my chest and he giggled like a toddler on crack. I shrieked wordlessly at him and clawed at his arms. Yaxley laughed.

I was crying, desperately searching for a way out. Carrow still had not released me, and his fingers were trailing lazily over my body. I writhed and twisted, trying to escape his clasp. When his hand flitted over my pubic bone, I let out and ear-splitting howl of rage and head butted his chin. He grunted in pain and his arms lifted to his face. I prepared to run, but was not ready for him to let me go so fast and so fell on my arse. Rowle grabbed me from behind, his long arms winding about my waist. I screamed again.

I was about to be raped at my mother's funeral.

My inhuman howl of fury must have carried, because suddenly, I heard and answering growl from behind us. I couldn't see what it was, because I was facing Yaxley and Carrow. I guessed Rowle couldn't see it either. But Amycus and Robertus could. And they looked terrified.

"You let her go!" I heard a man say. His voice had a deep timbre, a mix between a dog-like growl and man. For a fleeting moment, I had it in my head that it was my father. Rowle dumped me on the ground and took off after Carrow and Yaxley, who were fleeing for their lives.

I lay there in an exhausted heap. Too shocked, too tired, too humiliated to haul myself up. I did manage to turn my head to see the owner of the strange, but familiar voice. I would never have expected it. Never would have guessed.

"Are you alright, Violent?" asked Fenrir Greyback, his inhuman electric blue eyes assessing my still figure.

I nodded dumbly, my mouth too dry to find words. He stepped forward and helped me to my feet. I ignored the talons on his fingers where nails should have been.

The werewolf waited for me as I dusted off my dress. I was fighting back tears. "Did you want to go to the Malfoy's now, or back to the wake?" he asked in that strange, growling voice.

What the fuck? Since when was Greyback this nice?

_Since he almost saw me assaulted and raped._..

"I want to go home," I said shakily, not really trusting myself to speak. I was surprised when the words came out strong.

"To the Malfoy's?" he clarified.

I shook my head. "Hogwarts. I can't be here anymore."

Greyback nodded. "What about your belongings? Will Master Malfoy be delivering them to you?"

I nodded.

He gestured to my arm. I held it out to him. His taloned fingers wrapped around it, just above the elbow and I felt the horrible feeling o apparition. My feet touched the ground just in front of an enormous front gate. Hogwarts.

I turned to Fenrir. I tried to smile at him, but it didn't quite work. "Will you tell anyone about what happened?" I asked quietly.

He nodded, his grey beard pressing against his neck. "Yes. The Dark Lord will need to hear about this so that those men are punished. I shall have to tell Narcissa, as she will demand to know why you went back so early."

I nodded. It was necessary. "Thank you, Fenrir. I -"

He waved his hand. "No worry. I'll be seeing you, Violent."

With a pop, he disapparated. I turned back to the enormous wrought iron gates of Hogwarts. I took a step forward and they swung open to admit me. I walked through, my legs like pumpkin jelly, and up the narrow path to my school. It was about midday. I guessed that everyone was in the Great Hall, enjoying a peaceful lunch.

"Miss Faithe?" I heard a distinctive Scottish brogue as I stepped toward the portrait of the Fat Lady. I turned around slowly; already completely aware of whom I would be faced with.

Professor McGonagall looked at me with mistrust and pity. It made me wonder just how much Dumbledore told his staff. I doubted that she knew about my heritage. But I was fairly sure she had heard about my mother. All of Gryffindor House knew, why not its Head?

"Yes, professor?"

The sharp-looking woman stared at me for a moment - Merlin, I hated being stared at - before answering. "I'm sorry for your loss."

I raised an eyebrow. "Thanks," I said softly before turning on my heel and stepping through the portrait hole. That's funny, because I don't actually recall saying the password...

And I realised my mistake as soon as I smacked into him.

"Sorry," mumbled Potter, bending down to pick up his books. I groaned internally and stooped to help him.

"Do us all a fovour, Potter," I said snidely. I handed him a tattered copy of our Potions text. I wondered why it looked so old and worn. Couldn't the Saviour of mankind afford a decent textbook? "Go outside and play a nice, long game of Hide-and-go-fuck-yourself."

"Piss off," he muttered suddenly, running a hand nervously through his messy black hair. "I'm not in the mood -"

I rolled my eyes. "Didn't think you would be, Hero. I hear the _ladies_ don't do much to get you going..." I stepped around him and pounded up to my dormitory. Hmm. I wonder why calling Potter gay makes me feel better? Oh, right, because I hate him.

The girls Sixth was completely empty, thank Merlin. I didn't want to deal with Tegs, who would no doubt be asking me every five seconds "if I was okay", or if I "needed someone to talk to"...

I sat on my bed and closed my eyes, trying to forget that horrible funeral. I hoped Greyback got Carrow, Rowle and Yaxley real good. I had never really talked to Fenrir through my childhood. Like most eleven year olds, I was terrified of werewolves. And Greyback was one freaky-looking wolf. I knew how he fed on small children, even when it wasn't the full moon and that disgusted me. It was strange though, how many new allies I was finding amidst the Death Eaters. Draco, Snape, _Greyback_.

I felt terrible. I had barely even spoken to Miriam-Rose, my own half-sister in the short time I'd been with her. I had palmed her off onto Narcissa and even Draco (not that I for one second trusted his skills as a nurturing parent...) I had abandoned her to the Dark Side. I knew that Narcissa would treat her like her own daughter, but that didn't stop me feeling pangs of guilt in the pit of my stomach.

I lay there for hours, well into the afternoon lessons. It was nearing six o'clock when I heard the door open.

"Violent?" I heard a tentative voice from the doorway. "Are you in here?"

"Yes," I croaked, sitting up. It was Parvati. She was standing nervously by the doorway, twirling her dark ringlets in her fingers.

"The Headmaster wants to see you right away in his study."

I nodded and pulled myself out of bed.

"That's a pretty dress, Vi," murmured Parvati. I glanced downward, my cheeks burning with embarrassment. I had forgotten about my fuchsia gown. No wonder McGonagall and Potter were staring.

"Shit," I muttered, reaching behind to undo it. My fingers scrabbled uselessly against the zip. I was getting more and more frustrated. Actually, I think I may have growled out a few mother-insulting cuss words, because Parvati looked frightened and scurried over to help. We managed to get me out of the stupid dress with minimal snarling on my part. I pulled on some jeans and a t-shirt and then the school robe on over the top. I thanked Parvati before leaving the dormitory.

I swear, every time I go to Dumbledore's study, something bad happens. Really. I mean, what next? Violent, you have a terminal case of spattergroit? Perhaps I should pretend I didn't get the message and go back to my dorm.

"Enter," he called when I knocked. God, that was getting repetitive.

I sat down in front of his desk, like every other time and stated, "You wanted to see me, sir?" like every other time. And also like every other time, Dumbledore smiled at me sadly, sympathetically and sorrowfully.

The Three Ss that I hated.

"Once again, I'd like to extend to you my condolences, Violent," he began. I nodded, urging him to continue. "Though it feels rushed and rude of me, I have yet another request for you."

Another one? Was he trying to kill me? Wasn't it dangerous enough that I had involved myself with Malfoy's plan?

"What is it?" I asked dully.

"I have a lot to explain to you first, Violent, before I can ask you."

I leaned back in my chair, making a show of getting comfortable. "Shoot."

"As you well know, Lord Voldemort wants me dead," I nodded. That was old news. "And there are a few reasons he wants this. Have you heard of the Elder Wand?"

I nodded. Duh. What child had grown up in the wizarding world without hearing stories of the Deathly Hallows?

"It is in my possession."

Oh. _Fuck_.

It didn't occur to me to ask why the bloody hell Albus Dumbledore had the world's most powerful magical tool. All I could think was:

_You could have saved my mother_.

Stupid. Stupid.

"And what do you want from me?"

"Not just you, Violent. Professor Snape has been told as well. I don't want Voldemort to have this wand. It is imperative that he doesn't have it. When the time comes for Mr Malfoy to perform his duty" - I flinched - "I must make sure that the wand is taken by someone I trust. I need you or Professor Snape to be that person."

I stared at my Headmaster in horror. "You're organising Snape or me to kill you?"

He nodded and twiddled his thumbs. I leapt to my feet, my chair scraping loudly against the floorboards like a dying animal.

"You're fucking stupid! Have you lost your mind?!" I screeched, not giving a shit if my language bothered the senile old man who had just asked me to murder him. "How do you think I feel about that, huh? I come to you for _help_," I spat furiously. "To get away from the killing and the murder. And you offer me the exact thing that he did!"

"What?" asked Dumbledore suddenly. "Who are you talking about?" his voice was low and sharp. Fuck.

"Lord Voldemort," I hissed. "If Draco can't kill you, I have to kill him! Yeah, tell me if I should be okay with that? Because right now, both my options involve me killing someone I don't want dead!"

"You have a choice, Violent," he said quietly.

"Yeah, the hell I do! I can pick the victim, can't I?" I yelled sarcastically. "Dumbledore or Malfoy. If I kill you, what happens then, huh? I get shunned. I get hunted. I get fucking locked up, that's what! If I kill Malfoy - who is my _friend_, I'll be a hero."

"But the right thing -"

"Oh, I know what the right thing to do is, _Albus_," I snarled. "The right thing is to kill you and take your precious wand. Yeah, I'm not stupid. Forgive me if it's just a little hard to come to terms with spending the rest of my life in Azkaban!"

"I'll make sure there are people to protect you, Violent."

"Yeah? _Who_? Potter? Oh, he'll love me once I've murdered you, I'm sure! The Order? I'd say they'd be in league with the Saviour after you've carked it, right? Snape? Who's to say he's going to survive this either?" I screamed, my tears running down my cheeks. Dumbledore was looking at me in a mixture of shock and regret. "No one can protect me, Dumbledore!" _My mother learnt that the hard way._ "The only person I can rely on is myself."

"I'm sorry you feel that way."

"I bet you are," I mumbled under my breath as I sat back down. My cheeks were wet and flushed from my rant and I'd ripped a hole in my shirt where it had been scrunched in my fist.

"Killing me is only the first stage in what I am asking you to do for me, Violent. I understand that what I am saying in near incomprehensible, but it is the only way.'

"Only the first stage?" I echoed.

He nodded. "After that, I need you to return to Voldemort, with Professor Snape and Draco. After I am dead, there are going to be many changes at Hogwarts and I need as many people as possible on the other side. We'll never win this war otherwise. The Order of the Phoenix will need your help next year, Violent."

"And once I have killed you? How will I know what to do?"

"Severus will tell you all you need to know, he will help you, I promise."

"How will I know when I need to kill you, Professor?"

Dumbledore sighed. "You will know. It will be quite soon. Sooner than you might expect."

I nodded stupidly, not sure what to say.

"Sirius and Callista would be so proud of you, Violent," he said suddenly. "It takes great courage to stand all by yourself, with no one behind you. Most people have a side, whether it is light or dark is inconsequential. You don't have a side. But you fight anyway, not for one man's belief in his own righteousness, but for what _you_ believe is right. You are the bravest person I know, Violent Black."

I ignored the unspoken "_Outside of Harry Potter,"_ simply because I was too apathetic in that moment to truly give a shit. "Thanks, sir," I said shakily, a little overwhelmed by the compliment.

"You may leave, Violent," he said. "May you one day have the greatest happiness this life has to offer... I believe Mr Malfoy is waiting to ambush you outside Gryffindor Tower."

I smiled slightly and stepped outside. To my shock, I ran smack bang into Harry Potter. Again.

"Sorry," he said. I nodded and stepped to the side, allowing him to go past me. Wow. Never done that before. Not to mention that he must be spitting after I had called his sexuality into question earlier.

I walked quickly back to Gryffindor Tower. I wondered when Draco had come back. True to Dumbledore's word, the blonde was pacing just atop the stairs.

"Violent," he breathed when he saw me. "Are you okay?"

I shrugged. "I guess. When'd you get here?"

"About an hour after you. I finished the cabinet. I fixed it!"

My stomach plummeted and seemed to writhe on the ground for a few moments. Was it totally repetitive to once again compare an object to a dying animal? Because it completely resembled one. "Oh. Great."

Was that what Dumbledore meant by soon? This was too soon.

"Try for a little excitement, why don't you?"

I shook my head. "Sorry, I'm just a little..."

"It's alright. Are you ready?"

I looked at him in confusion. "For what?"

Draco raised his eyebrows. "For when our friends come through the cabinet in a few hours and storm the school?" He enunciated perfectly so that I had no difficulty understanding.

"Oh, right. That. Yeah, sure. I'm going to go lie down."

"Do you really want to be alone right now?"

I scrunched up my nose in indecision. "I suppose not. But I'll figure something out. Always do."

He smiled. He looked horrible. Draco may have succeeded in the first part of his task, but the second was much more trying. I wasn't sure if he'd be able to kill Dumbledore. Wait! What am I saying? He wouldn't have to. Snape or I had to kill the Headmaster, not Draco. I wished I could tell him that so he wouldn't look so terrified, but I knew I couldn't.

"I'll meet you here at eleven, okay?"

I nodded. "See you then."

~xox~

The girls Sixth was full when I stepped inside. My glance settled on my trunk, closed on my bed. Draco had brought it with him when he returned to school. Lavender looked me over rudely but didn't say anything. Parvati smiled in pity. Granger asked how the service was. And Teagan hugged me. Viciously.

"I thought you weren't gonna be back til Tuesday?" she asked, her breath tickling my ear.

"I didn't want to stay after the funeral. Too hard," I lied.

"Was it okay?" she asked. "How are your family? What are they doing?"

_Celebrating._

"Coping."

"Ron loves me," said Lavender suddenly. It took me a moment to realise that she'd completely changed the subject. Maybe she felt awkward talking about my mother's funeral. Because I certainly did. I welcomed any topic change, even Weasley's love life.

From her bed, I heard Granger snort something that sounded suspiciously like, "As if..."

I laughed a little hollowly. In this instance, I agreed with her. Even though I have a firm belief that Hermione Granger should make regular trips to the dentist and possibly a muggle _spastic surgin_ or whatever they're called that fix people's faces, she definitely had some substance between the ears.

"No, he definitely does," Lavender insisted. "Yesterday, in Potions, he was totally checking me out."

"Was your top undone again?" I asked sincerely, remembering the infamous Charms class when the resident Gryffindor slurry had loosened her buttons to gain more attention from the red-haired sidekick. "Lav-lav?" I added for extra emphasis.

"Yeah," said Hermione. "That was _classy_, that was."

I barked a laugh as Lavender blushed and glared at us. Teagan was watching me with concern. She obviously thought I was covering up my inner pain by hurting others. What? It helped. It always helped.

"Oh. That's real good, Hermione," sneered the charming Miss Brown. "I seem to recall an incident that involved a certain Viktor Krum and a garden table during the Yule Ball!"

"What's this?!" I laughed. I had no idea what had come over me. I hadn't felt this light-hearted in a while. I wondered if it was the crazy hormones or something. Perhaps it was just my mind's way of making up for the fact that in a few hours, the world was about to be radically different, I was going to be on the run with several known Death Eaters and Albus Dumbledore would be dead by either Severus Snape's or my hand. Well, fuck that. I intend to enjoy my last hour or so of sanity. "A _garden table_? Wow. Viktor must like it rough! Never picked him as _whore_-ticulturer..." Ooh. I'm so funny. Had I lived in the Middle Ages, I would have been a kick-ass court jester.

Parvati squealed like a pig confronted with an acre of mud pens from the force of her laughter. Granger turned a satisfying colour not dissimilar to that of a beetroot and even the grim-looking Tegs cracked a grin. Lavender looked pleased with herself for diverting the conversation so thoroughly.

"Who did you go to the Ball with, then, Violent?" asked Lavender. "I don't remember seeing you there."

"I left early," I said cheekily, winking. "And I went with Zabini."

Parvati gasped. "Z-O-M-G!"

What the fuck was Z-O-M-G? Was it an acronym for something?

"What did you do with him?!"

"Erm... It, being a ball and all, generally meant that we danced a little..."

"Was he good dancer?" asked Parvati wistfully. "Did he totally sweep you off your feet?"

I coughed. "No, I tripped over of my own accord, thanks for the concern though..."

"That was so funny," said Teagan, finally speaking up. "She tried to trip over Harry when he was dancing with Parvati and just the other champions, but she missed and got Neville instead. It was catastrophic and they both ended up on the floor."

Granger let out a howl of mirth. "You know what they say about karma, huh, Violent?"

"You're tellin' me!" I replied, but the joking tone had died. Karma's mum must have been a dog and its dad must have been a donkey, because Karma was one jackass-fucking-son-of-a-bitch. Seriously, all the Gods (donkey-dog cross breed Karma included) must all hate me to fuck up my life the way they did.

I stood up and glanced at my watch. Eleven. It was time.

"Where are you going, Violent," asked Lavender from her position sprawled out on the floor. "We only just started talking!"

I laughed rudely. "I'm sorry, Lavender," I said obnoxiously. "But talking to you seems about as appealing to me as playing leapfrog with unicorns. Ta-ta!"

"Same old Violent after all," sighed Hermione as I stepped outside. I flicked a sad smile Teagan's way before I left, knowing that it might be the last time I saw her in a while. I wondered vaguely what she would think of me as of tomorrow. I groaned sadly and padded with cat-like silence out of the full commonroom.

I glanced at it affectionately before pushing the portrait aside. Who knows? I might never come back, let alone survive this black night.

And Black it would be.

**AN: Sniff. This story only has a one chapter (two at the max) to go. So depressing. But there's a sequel so it's totally okay. :D**

**I think I need to explain Violent a little. You must be thinking that she got over her mother's death and her near rape awfully quickly, right? Violent isn't the sort to think about things like that. Oh, she's morbid, definitely, but she prefers to look to the future, no matter how grim or dark it seems. She sees that her life is too complicated and she doesn't have the time to put thought into all these traumas. Not only that, but Violent is not quite as mature or emotionally developed as other kids her age. Sure, she's sixteen and subject to her share of immaturity, but with the childhood she has had, she doesn't really know how to cope. The only loss she ever experieced on an emotional level was Sirius' and that was simply because she saw him as an escape route. She lost her last way out of the Death Eaters when he died. Also, I think that the brutality of Callista's murder severely affected her, in ways that will be sure to make themselves known in future chapters. **

**I hope you are all looking forward to the next chapter as it is quite full on. I'm assuming that the readers here are intelligent enough to guess (going by the plot of _The Half-Blood Prince_) that the next chapter is when the Death Eaters storm the school. Poor Violent, she has to pick her side for good.**

**I apologise for the hideously long authors note, please review!**

xxx


	12. Chapter 11

**Violent Deception**

**Chapter Eleven**

**_I haven't been home for a while_**

**_I'm sure everything's the same_**

**_Mom and Dad both in denial_**

**_An only child to take the blame_**

**_Sorry, Mom, but I don't miss you_**

**_Father's no name you deserve_**

**_I'm just a kid with no ambitions_**

**_Wouldn't come home for the world_**

"Fucking hell, Violent," he swore when I stepped out of the commonroom. The blonde boy, who looked horribly close to death, grabbed my hand and began yanking me down the corridors. "What were you doing up there? Playing chess with Potter?"

"As fun as that sounds, I was a little too preoccupied," I replied bitterly as I followed him. "You know, my impending doom and all that jazz..."

Draco pulled me into an empty classroom. His breathing was harsh and the deep bruises blurring the pale skin of his face beneath his eyes and in the hollows of his cheeks were more pronounced than when I saw him, barely three hours ago.

"Stay here," he said. "I'll let the others in and come back for you. Alright?"

I nodded. "Who's coming?"

"Most of the outer members."

"Carrow, Rowle and Yaxley?"

He shrugged. "Guess so. I haven't heard that they're not. Why?"

"None of your fucking business," I snarled viciously.

Draco took a step back, looking at me strangely.

I shook my head. "Sorry. Overreaction. I'm a little jumpy."

He nodded. "Quite understandable. I'll be back soon, okay? Don't worry."

He pecked me on the forehead and left the classroom, closing the door behind him. Unexpected. I rubbed the spot where his lips had pressed against my skin. Dammit. This was just getting harder and more complicated.

**_Never know what I've become_**

**_The king of all that's said and done_**

**_The forgotten son_**

**_This city's buried in defeat_**

**_I walk along these no-name streets_**

**_Wave goodbye to all....._**

**_As I fall..._**

I tried to take deep breaths, but they came as shuddering gasps of pain. Should I run and warn Dumbledore? Did he already know? He was in his study, talking to Harry as far as I knew.

_Shit_.

I took a few steps back until my arse collided with a desk. I sat on it, grateful for the support, and not quite sure if my legs could hold me. I should have bought an elastic to tie my long hair back with. It was only going to annoy me. My magical skills didn't extend as far as summoning spells. Sigh.

I sat there for barely ten minutes before the door burst open. Draco quickly stepped into the room and shut the door behind him.

"They're in. The Order of the Phoenix is here though, so everyone is fighting in the corridors. We have to go up to the tower to wait for Dumbledore. Rosmerta alerted me that he left Hogsmeade with Potter a few hours ago. He'll be back any minute. C'mon."

"What the hell?" I asked in confusion as we ran through the school.

I could hear shouts echoing on other floors. I was suddenly terrified. We broke onto the Seventh Floor, where the battle was taking place and I stopped to take stock.

Draco turned to me, we were out of view of the other combatants, and they were too distracted trying to survive the flying curses to pay attention to two whispering students.

"Okay. You stay here until I come back for you. I have to go up to the tower. Only come up if there's nowhere else to go, or if the plan fails, alright?" he begged me, squeezing my cold hand.

"What plan?!" I asked frantically. He'd never told me the plan. I flinched as I heard a scream of pain. I didn't know which side they were from and I didn't really want to find out. Draco didn't answer me, just smiled grimly and took off.

I didn't want to wait here.

I didn't want to be by myself.

Not now.

**_At the dead-end I begin_**

**_To burn a bridge of innocence_**

**_Satisfaction guaranteed_**

**_A pillow-weight catastrophe_**

**_On our mission nowhere bound_**

**_Inhibitions underground_**

**_A shallow grave I _**

**_Have dug all by myself_**

"Draco!" I screamed, before turning around the corner to face whatever was there.

It was terrifying. The Death Eaters were locked in a furious battle of skill with the teachers, Order of the Phoenix and even a few students.

The fear I felt was overwhelming as I threw myself into the fray. What was the possibility of me making it out of this alive? Slim to none? Thought so.

"Miss Faithe, you are no help here!" called McGonagall as she battled fiercely with Antonin Dolohov.

_Ouch, that stung, professor._

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a stooped figure, bent over what looked to be a twitching corpse. I could see a grisly puddle of blood pooling about the victim. I could see the dying man's red hair, and thought it must be Ron Weasley.

What shocked me, as I ran over to the man bent over him, was the strange thoughts that ran through my mind: _Hermione couldn't live without him_, and, _Harry needs him_.

Since when did I give fuck's ear what Harry or Hermione needed? Wait, since when did I call Potter 'Harry'. Growl.

I reached out and yanked the guy off. The big man straightened, wiping the blood from his chin. He growled at me, and specks of blood flew in my face.

Fenrir Greyback.

"What the hell are ya doin'?" he snarled at me. All traces of the civil, kind man who had saved me from certain sexual assault were gone. They had been replaced by a monster; furious and bloodthirsty to the core.

I glanced down at the mangled body. It wasn't Ron. But he looked similar. Perhaps it was one of Weasley's brothers.

"Draco needs you upstairs," was all I could think of. Didn't know if it was true or not, but I hated the idea of Draco up there by himself, waiting for his victim to arrive. And also, I needed someone to show me how to get through the no-doubt charmed door. Voldemort wouldn't leave it to chance.

Greyback licked his lips and took off into the mess of duellers.

_Wait for me, you stupid werewolf!_

**_And now I've been gone for so long_**

**_I can't remember who was wrong_**

**_All innocence is long gone_**

**_I pledge allegiance to a world of disbelief_**

**_Where I belong_**

"Violent!" I heard somebody yell.

I ignored them and kept running. There were curses flying everywhere, screams as they hit people, and grunts of exertion from both sides. It looked like a fucking rainbow had exploded and died on the seventh floor. I saw some Death Eaters - the Carrows - turning and dashing up the set of stairs that led to the battlements at the top of the Astronomy Tower. Professor Sprout and - gulp - our old teacher, Professor Lupin (my new guardian) were at the bottom of the stairs, trying to get through. There seemed to be some sort of barrier; the entry way was repelling them as soon as their left arm tried to get through.

I recognised the spell that had been used on the stairs immediately. Snape had invented it a few years back - you could only get past the enchantment if you had a Dark Mark on your left arm. Tick for Violent.

"Excuse me," I said as I squeezed past them.

I took a long look at Lupin over my shoulder as I dashed up the stairs, trying to communicate with him that I wasn't evil, I wasn't a murderer, that I was his best friend's daughter and that I needed help. Unfortunately, my (freakin' awesome) grey eyes weren't that talkative.

Yeah, I was happy to think anything, even arrogant, up-myself comments, just so I wouldn't have to consider how in moments, I may possibly be responsible for the murder of Albus Dumbledore.

Albus. Fucking. Dumbledore.

I broke onto the balcony, which seemed somewhat crowded. I was gasping for breath. I was going to blame that fact on the freakin' exhausting trek it took to get to the top of the tower, but I knew it was fear and a sick sense of horror that was making me breathless.

And what little oxygen was previously in my lungs was dispersed as I took in the scene before me. Dumbledore was sliding down the rail, looking weaker than I had ever seen him; Draco was standing over the Headmaster, his wand poised, but his arm distinctly shaking; Amycus Carrow, his sister, Alecto, Greyback, and Thorfinn Rowle standing in a loose semi-circle around him.

Great. My fucking favourite people right now.

Dumbledore's eyes flickered to me. "Violent," he whispered. The desperation and ... plea in his voice was plain for all to hear. I gulped and felt the goosebumps break out on the skin f my arms.

Amycus giggled. "Didn't yeh hear, Dumby?" he asked, grinning from ear to ear. "She's on our side, this one."

Dumbledore didn't lift his eyes from mine; his message was clear: _kill me, do your duty._

"Yeah," I mumbled dully. "Betrayal's a bitch, huh?"

I jumped when I heard a yell from the bottom of the stairs. "They've blocked the stairs!" the man shouted. "_Reducto_! _REDUCTO_!"

"Now, Draco, quickly!" shouted Rowle.

Draco looked like he was about to shit himself.

I stepped forward, out of the corner of my eye, seeing Dumbledore sag as he sighed with relief.

"I'll do it," I said quietly. "Move."

I raised my not-often-used wand and pointed it at my ... well, practically my father-figure's chest. Draco stared at me in horror and gratitude.

I took a shaky breath and closed my eyes.

I lowered my wand a tad when, very softly so that only I could hear, I heard Dumbledore breathe, "Thank you..."

I wasn't worried that my defected magical abilities would prevent me from performing the spell - it was one I was good at. Most of my childhood, practically since I was eleven, I had been taught this spell. Usually on insects and small animals.

Never a human though.

Not like this.

Ignoring the lone tear that dribbled from the corner of my eye, a glistening diamond of pain, what I thought must be the last drop of emotion left in my body, I once more raised my wand.

**_A walking disaster_**

**_The son of all bastards_**

**_You regret you made me_**

**_It's too late to save me_**

**_You regret you made me_**

**_It's too late to save me_**

"_Avada kedvr_ -" I shouted, only to be cut off by someone thundering up the stairs, shouting, "Wait!"

It was Snape. I almost screamed in relief. He could do it. He could do it all.

"We've got a problem, Snape," said Amycus, whose wand was also fixed on Dumbledore. "The kids don't seem able to -"

"Severus..."

Fuck it. Dumbledore was pleading.

Internally, so I was I. _Do it, Snape. Please, so I don't have to become a murderer..._

Snape's face was disfigured with hatred and disgust and raw emotion. His black eyes flickered from Dumbledore's to mine. _Please, just do it._

"_Avada Kedavra!_"

The green light shot like a bolt of lightning from Snape's wand, illuminating the room with an iridescent emerald glow that made me retch. I watched in horror as Dumbledore's body was thrown backwards, off the battlements and into the still night surrounding the tower.

I cried freely, not even noticing Draco latch onto my arm and pull me to his chest.

"Out of here, quickly," said Snape, grabbing Malfoy and I and forcing us through the door ahead of everyone else. I heard a spell cast on that horrible balcony and a grunt as it hit somebody.

Snape forced me on, even though my tears were obscuring my vision. I turned, trying to figure out where the others were, but it was just Draco, Snape and I running through an empty corridor.

I screamed out wordlessly. I let my frustration and horror at what I had just witnessed - participated in, fill my shrieks of pain. I could see Draco watching me with concern as we ran. My cries of agony, worse than a particularly brutal cruciatus, filled the night as we burst through the oak front doors.

I vaguely registered Snape telling me to shut up. I stopped screaming when we reached the forest and Snape realised we had been followed.

I was distracted by the sight of Hagrid's hut, on fire and burning steadily. I watched in fear as Death Eaters I didn't know threw curse after curse at the giant Hogwarts Gamekeeper. They seemed to bounce right off him. Snape's eyes were fixed on Potter, who was running towards us.

"_Cruc -_" The boy hero yelled. I automatically ducked, knowing any shield charm I threw up (if I managed one at all) would crumble within seconds. Snape, however, competently blocked it.

Snape and Potter were screaming at each other, flinging curses back and forth, insulting each other with each one. Malfoy and I stood in silence beneath the fringe of the trees, each of us replaying that horrible scene in the tower in our minds.

Snape threw a curse at Potter, who stumbled back and fell over. Snape turned to us and once more began ushering us through the pitch black forest.

**_As far as I can tell_**

**_It's just voices in my head_**

**_Am I talking to myself?_**

**_'Cause I don't know what I just said_**

I felt numb as we darted through the trees, Snape leading us to a point where we would be able to apparate away.

"Violent! What are you doing?" Draco yelled at me from where he was running, just ahead of me, through the thick trees and shrubbery.

I had stopped dead in my tracks, my eyes on Hogwarts; from the only spot I could see it through the trees.

"We have to leave!" cried Draco in a panic. Snape had run on ahead, assuming that we were following. I could see Potter crashing towards us, screaming curses at Snape from the top of his lungs.

"I can't do this," I whispered. "I won't do this."

I turned to walk back up to the school. I couldn't bear running away, setting myself against the rest of the wizarding world for God knows how long. Not again.

Draco jumped forward and grabbed my arm, pulling me back. "Violent, you have to come. Please," he begged.

I shook my head numbly, not really processing what he was saying.

"I need you to be with me," he pleaded and he pressed his lips fiercely to mine. I stood there, unresponsive, a figure of indecision. Draco pulled away and tried to once again drag me through the forest. This time, I loped along behind him. I had withdrawn within myself. I had no control over my body. It followed Draco, despite my misgivings. What was happening?

I was a traitor. I had stood by and let Snape kill the one man who held the key to my freedom, to the freedom of the entire wizarding world. Even though that is what he wanted. In fact, I had almost stolen the final link to hope or peace the world had clung to by myself.

I knew that, deep in the cold corners of my dark, frozen heart, I would regret this moment for the rest of my life, my non-life and any future lives or reincarnations I might live through in the future. In that second, I realised that death wasn't a man who came to collect souls when it was their time; it was warrior who came slashing by with a freakin' machete, hacking at every life it could reach.

Dumbledore... Sirius... Callista... Who would be taken from me next?

I was lost. Lost in a world of incorrect decisions, bad intentions and misled hope. Forever destined to make the wrong turn, again and again, until I hit the dead-end wall for the last time and knocked myself dead. And I had to resign myself to that.

**_And she said_**

**_As far as where I fell_**

**_Maybe I'm better off dead_**

**_Am I at the end of nowhere?_**

**_Is this as good as it gets?_**

Dead. I wanted to be dead.

I hoped that wherever Snape was taking me, there was a room with a pre-tied noose or something, because I simply didn't think I could leave with the horror of what I'd turned into.

I followed Draco into the night, doing exactly as Dumbledore asked, leaving behind the last essence of humanity I had desperately held on to. And all I felt at that point was sorrow.

**_And now I've been gone for so long  
I can't remember who was wrong  
All innocence is long gone  
I pledge allegiance to a world of disbelief  
Where I belong  
A walking disaster  
The son of all bastards  
You regret you made me  
It's too late to save me_**

**AN: **

**Oh My! It's OVER!!!**

**I want to especially thank: _hannahmeh_**_ (_award for the freakin' longest comments I have EVER seen_!)**, silverbirch **(thanks_ for all the super duper comments. I often sit up at night after posting waiting to see what you thought of the chapter_)_**_, TheRugMaster_ **(because beleive it or not, Pansy isn't a slut ... more to be said in the sequel... and for fuelling my vicious hate of Bellatrix Lestrange. God _damn _she's a bitch) **and _NairieFairie _**_(_you can totally have all the freddos you want for those crazy reviews_)_** for their dedicated reviewing, as well as all my other beautiful readers and reviewers! Sniff. Poor Violent. What a choice huh?**

Word Count: 52 841

Page Count: 137

**The song in this chapter is 'Walking Disaster' by the awesome band that is Sum 41...**

**Chillax everybody! The sequel is on the way!**

**If you would all like to add me to author alert or let me know in a review if you would like me to PM you when I post the first chapter, that would be lovely!**

**I'm thinking of posting a little snippet of the beginning at the end of this story though, so everybody knows! Excitement! it's called: (drum roll please!)**

**Violent Deliverance**

**Looking forward to all your comments on this first installment (I still can't believe I actually finished one...) and hearing from you all in the reviews page of Violent Deliverance. In the meantime, I shamelessly invite you all to take a look at some of my other HP stories: Adore You (Roxanne.W/OC, a Next Gen fic) and High School Musical Versus Sirius Black (you might hate the show, but haven't you ever wondered Sirius' reaction to 'we're all in this together?') as well as Screaming My Silence (a Charlie/OC)**

**xxx LOVE TO YOU ALL xxx**

**Did you know it's valentine's day tomorrow? "Happy valentines day!" - from Violent Black and !!**


	13. Violent Deliverance: Sneak Preview

**Hey people! Here's a quick sneak preview of chapter one of the upcoming sequel _Violent Deliverance_. I should be posting it in the next few days! Yewww! Sorry it's short - i didn't wanna give too much away!**

**xx**

**Btw: you are still most welcome to review; it will most probably make me hurry my little butt up and post it faster (hint hint)**

"You killed George Weasley!" I screamed at him as I leapt off my broom on a deserted street in the middle of the night in Surrey, London. "You're a psychopath!"

Severus Snape flew, yes, I said _flew_, to the ground, surveying me with distaste and mild disgust.

"Don't look at me like that," I snapped.

"You need to make it look real," he said silkily. It sounded like a threat.

"What? By murdering my school mates? Sorry, I'm just not that _real_."

Snape eyed me as I stalked off down the deserted street. He followed, keeping on my heels, his black cloak all but blending into the shadow of the night. The glinting silver mask that twirled from his fingertips was the only source of colour I could detect, other than the pallid skin of his face and hands.

"If you are not believable," he murmured softly. "Then the Dark Lord will kill you."

I rolled my eyes and walked faster. "Gee, because I haven't wanted that all summer."

Snape cursed. I smiled dully. "Your new-found suicidal tendencies need to be put aside. You can't think like that."

I laughed out loud. "Serious? Every choice I make will end in me dying. Every choice I _don't_ make ends in me dying. On top of that, everyone around me, even _you_, keeps telling me that I'm going to be murdered sooner rather than later if I don't follow the rules. And just think of how many people want me dead, hm. I'm liking my chances. Excuse me if a peaceful, calm death sounded like a pretty good idea after the one person who could protect me - Dumbledore - got killed. By _you_, I might add."

I'm not sure I was really trying to kill myself that night. I just... stepped off the roof of the tower at Malfoy Manor. I would have introduced myself to the well-manicured lawn, had Lucius not seen me, er, jump, and magically broke my fall. Bastard.

But really. I hadn't even thought about death, or the ease of suicide. I just wanted to know what it felt like to fall. To just focus on the air rushing past me.

Draco was furious. If his mother hadn't pulled him off, he would have throttled me to death. No kidding.

**Sorry it's so short, again!**

**Go on review!**

**I love yas all!**

**Ohh, and by the way, NairieFairie, my next door neighbor gave me a whole BOX of caramellos the other day. Totally enough to take over the world...**


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